


Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

by jeni_andtheafterthought



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Arson, Auror Harry Potter, Case Fic, Chef Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub Undertones, Down and Out Draco Malfoy, Eye Contact, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Non-Graphic Attempted Murder, Overstimulation, Past Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s), Pet Cats, Post-Hogwarts, Referenced Hogwarts Eighth Year, Restaurant Worker Draco Malfoy, Roommates, Sharing a Bed, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-07-14 04:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeni_andtheafterthought/pseuds/jeni_andtheafterthought
Summary: The war may have ended, but Draco was never able to move on with his life.  Having no access to his vault and cut off from his friends and family, he is forced to support himself by working jobs in muggle restaurants. With his luck in the gutter and his flat up in smoke, Draco thinks things can't possibly get worse. Harry offers to help, convincing Draco that things could, in fact, get worse.





	Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[181](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> Thank you so much to the mods for running the beast of a fest! I'm so excited to be a part of it.
> 
> I'd like to personally thank Pam for telling me from day one that I could do this and for cheering me on with every random idea I threw her way.
> 
> Lim (Marshview) and Nikki, you were both fantastic betas and I'm grateful for all the things you did to make my fic what it is.
> 
> And I also *need* to thank the sprinters on the #productivity-sprint channel. I have no idea where I'd be without you.

Draco pressed the lid back onto the paint can hoping he wouldn’t need to do another touch-up before the building inspector came. Maybe the cat could manage not to be a complete prick for one night. Though there were spells for home repair and maintenance, Draco had never bothered to learn a single one. This was a fact he deeply regretted every time he walked into his tiny flat.  

Most of the time, Draco didn’t think about the cat scratches on the walls. He didn’t concern himself with the neighbors that screamed at each other at all hours of the night or day.  He tried not to remind himself that he lived in a single room with a mini-kitchen, shower stall, and toilet all along the same wall. Working two jobs at muggle restaurants kept him out enough that he rarely felt the walls closing in on him.  

It was okay, he often told himself. This was only temporary. When the ministry ran out of excuses, he would have access to his vault. Until then, he would have to continue working shit jobs for muggle money to pay for this raggedy box he shared with a cat that a previous tenant must have left behind.

Draco rinsed the paint roller as well as he could and opened the room’s only window to air out the paint fumes. He glanced at the clock on the stove.  He didn’t have time to shower and eat before he needed to go to work. After a quick look into an empty refrigerator, his decision was made for him. He showered quickly and pulled on the drab uniform the café required him to purchase.

“I’ll bring something home for you,” Draco told the cat as he poured the last tiny handful of kibble into the bowl. “But if you insist on staying around and eating all my food, you’re going to start paying rent.”

The cat wandered over to the bowl and offered a disapproving look at both the bowl’s contents and Draco.

“Fine. I’ll try to bring you something from the café, but I at least expect a thank you,” Draco said. The cat promptly rubbed up against Draco’s black trousers, leaving a furry imprint on his leg. “Well, at least I know every clothing related spell ever invented. I would hate to imagine what this living arrangement would cost me in lint rollers. And try not to fuck up the paint again. You know they’re begging for a reason to evict me.”

Draco watched as the cat blinked in reply. “Fine. It’s fine. You don’t have to say goodbye or have a good shift,” he said. “It's not like you're the only one I talk to outside work or anything.” He reached down and scratched the cat's head once more for good measure.

He left his flat, locking the door the muggle way. If anyone wanted to get into his flat using magic, there were always enough muggles around that unlawful entering would be the least of their worries. He walked as quietly as he could to avoid disturbing the man that slept in the stairwell. Luckily, he was only one stairway away from the street entrance as each one of them seemed to have someone living in them. He hated waking any of them unless it was to offer them one of the meals he was able to bring home from work.

 

\-----

 

The street was covered in a light dusting of snow and the wind was slicing Draco to the bone. He didn’t have time to duck into an alleyway—out of muggle sight—long enough to cast a warming charm, so he just walked faster. He was only a few minutes away from the café. It would be okay.

After walking in the dying light of early evening, the café was too bright and too loud. The cook had his music up so loud that it drowned out the shit they pumped out over the dining room. He wasn’t sure if this was much of an improvement since it was just the cook’s own mixtape.  

“Hey D, you late,” Kaysan shouted through the pickup window.  

“The hell I am, I’m not on for another ten minutes,” Draco argued as he pushed his way through the swinging door to the kitchen.

“Nah, I said yesterday I gotta make some moves tonight.”

“Really not my problem,” he mumbled. Draco took a deep breath as he threw his coat in the chair against the back wall. He tied on an apron as slowly as possible before punching his number into the time clock.

“You high? Get the fuck on this grill,” Kaysan yelled.

“I’d tell you to eat my arse, but I don’t know where your mouth has been,” Draco answered.

“See, I knew working with me would get summa that bitch out your system,” he said, nodding his approval.

“So glad you approve,” Draco said, finally reaching the grill. “You don’t even have any tickets.”

“Don’t nobody wanna eat here. They got real restaurants all up this block,” he said, pulling off his hat. He pulled the hair tie off his dreads to rearrange them in a high ponytail. “Aight. Dreads up, I’m out.”

Draco glanced around the kitchen. He wasn’t surprised to find several of the prep tools left in the sink. Kaysan never washed the bloody things despite the fact it took all of two minutes. Otherwise it didn’t look too bad. Maybe Kaysan wasn’t being as much of a prick as he seemed.

Draco spent the first few minutes of his shift scraping the grill and making sure the reach-in was stocked. Before long, his stomach reminded him just how empty it was. He reached into the drawer and grabbed a couple tomato slices. Just as he popped the first one into his mouth, Jeanine stepped into view at the pick up window.

“You do remember that you do not have free meals here, yes?” she asked without preamble.

He forced himself not to roll his eyes at her. If he realised that a manager was doubling as the server, he would have been more careful. “It was just a tomato.”

“More than one from the looks of it,” she said, pointing to the other slice in his hand.

“You’re kidding, right? How many turkey sandwiches are we going to sell tonight? Maybe twelve? You know as well as I do about a third of them are going to ask for no tomato. They don’t get a discount for skipping ingredients. This will get paid for,” Draco argued.

“That’s not the point. There’s no integrity in stealing food,” Jeanine said. She was too short for Draco to actually see it through the window, but he knew she was standing with her arms crossed and likely tapping her foot. Jeanine liked to think she was intimidating.

Draco had been intimidated by a great number of muggles in the past three years. This hag was not one of them. He stuck the other tomato slice in his mouth. He didn’t even bother to chew with his mouth closed.

“Make sure you stop by the office at the end of the shift. Your write-up will be waiting for you,” she said before stepping back out of sight.

Draco took a deep breath and regretted it immediately. The grease smell from the fryers that he could never quite get out of his clothing filled his lungs and sat there. The printer buzzed to life barely a minute later, ordering a hash brown and two burgers. He lost himself in the routine of it, ladling the clarified butter onto the flat top grill, using enough for both the potatoes and the beef to cook in. Draco had made enough burgers to be able to do this in his sleep, slightly grilling the bread before dressing them on the plates, melting the cheese on the patties before plating them, and crisping the potatoes perfectly.

“Order up,” he called, placing the plates in the pick up window.  

The second he called for the pick-up, Jeanine was in the window looking pissed off. “Where are my chips?”

Draco glance back at the ticket, then at the printer. “What chips?”

“I’ve got two burgers and one chips for my table.”

“You sent back a hash brown.”

“Give me the ticket,” she snapped. She reached through the window before he even started moving.

He took down the ticket and reread it. No chips.

“Today! Moving like that, it’s no wonder my plates go out cold,” she said, snatching the ticket out of his hand as soon as it was within reach.

Draco enjoyed the “oh shit” look on her face when she realised her mistake and hated the way anger took its place.  

“You are supposed to verbally confirm orders.”

“Since when? That only applied to mods and allergy alerts,” he said.

“Adding a side order without making it a platter is a modification.”

“Like hell it is,” Draco responded. He knew he was right. In the year he’s been with this café, not once has an order of chips been called back as a modification.

She slapped a palm down on the window’s counter. “You think you can just talk to women like that? Do you have a problem with a woman being your boss? Is that it?”

Draco didn’t mean to laugh in her face, but he wasn’t able to stop himself.

“Drop my fucking chips,” she said, all venom. He watched as she pulled the burgers off the counter with her face beet red.

He knew he fucked up. Muggles were so stupid sometimes. Three years surrounded by them and he still forgot how much worse sexism was for them. He’d seen it in the wizarding world, but never like it was for muggles. He was glad she walked away when she did. Draco was tempted to tell her that he spoke to her like that not because she was a woman but because she was acting like a fucking harpy.

“Is it really that hard to own up to a mistake?” he whispered to himself as he poured the frozen chips into the fryer basket. “I guess that is just the pot calling the kettle black, now isn’t it?” he answered himself, because, yes. It was very fucking hard.

The timer on the deep fryer beeped.  He drained the chips and dumped them into a paper lined basket and salted them before sending them out for Jeanine. “Remake up!” he called. He took the hash browns out of the window and back into the kitchen.

“You’re going to throw those away, right?” Jeanine asked.

“Hadn’t planned on it,” Draco admitted.

“You can’t just eat all your mistakes. How will we know they’re actually mistakes and not just your little stolen snack breaks?”

“This was obviously your mistake,” he said. He knew he shouldn’t keep firing at her, but there was no reason anyone should go hungry, especially when they worked with food. It was right here in his hand and they were telling him to toss it? There was a special kind of cruelty in that.

“In the garbage. Now.”

Without breaking eye contact, he dropped the food as well as the plate into the bin.

“Lenny will be here later. I will be back. When I’m done talking to him, you’ll be lucky if you still have a job,” she threatened. The smile she gave him briefly reminded him of Umbridge.

He wasn’t scared of Lenny. Lenny was the perfect example of a truly decent bloke. He hired Draco even though he had no legal papers, no muggle ones anyway. He just assumed Draco was trying to stay off the grid, asked no questions and paid him cash. Of course, this meant several of his coworkers were in the same situation. None of them were nearly as unpleasant as Jeanine. He would rather spend a full week with Kaysan than ten minutes with Jeanine.

He was relieved to see the server name on the next ticket wasn’t hers. Melissa was taking the shift about ten minutes late, as was her usual.

“Hey, Draco,” Melissa called.

“Hey,” he answered, putting the next burger on the grill.

“So Jeanine just gave me some shit about side orders being considered a modification. You know anything about that?” she asked.

“I know she sent back a hash brown that was supposed to be chips and now it’s my fault,” still working as he spoke.

“Ah, that blows. Does that mean we get to eat some hash browns? That sounds so good. I’m hungover as fuck.”

“She made me bin it.”

“Bitch,” Melissa huffed.

Draco looked back at her, “Hey, you said it. Not me.” He put the burger together and handed it through the window.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said, taking the food to the table.

He tried to get back into his routine. Prepping for the upcoming shift, catching up on dishes, it wouldn’t take long until the regulars showed up. Then he could keep his eye on tickets. Before he got even an hour into his shift, the kitchen door swung open.  

“Kaysan, what are you doing back?”

“Man, I’m sorry, D,” Kaysan said, shaking his head, “Lenny wants to talk to you. He’s in the office.”

Draco’s heart sank. He knew fucking Jeanine got to Lenny. He knew he wouldn’t be finishing his shift. The uncertainty came from not knowing if he would still have a job when he left today.

“It ain’t right what she did. You let me know if you need a little something. I got you,” Kaysan said, reaching out to shake Draco’s hand.

Draco wasn’t sure if he meant drugs or money. Knowing what he knew now about the restaurant industry, they were equally likely, but he shook his hand anyway. He untied the apron and pulled it over his head. He didn’t allow himself to take a last glance through the kitchen he assumed he’d never see again. Grabbing his coat, he left.

Lenny’s office was on the other end of the café, and you had to walk through the dining area to get there. He saw Jeanine leaning against the dessert case looking full of her own smug satisfaction. Melissa was openly watching him, her expression pinched in concern. Then, there was Lenny. He pulled the door open and stepped aside so Draco could fall into the metal folding-chair in front of Lenny’s desk.

“I’m stuck, Draco,” Lenny started.

“I bet.”

“Look, Jeanine came at me with some story about you attacking her with, I think she called it ‘sexist and aggressive dialogue’ or some shit.”

Draco said nothing. He kept his eyes on the desktop as Lenny took his seat.

“Now, you have been nothing but a hard worker and an asset to my staff and I have a hard time believing her. Especially since she couldn’t give me a single example of what she’s accusing you of. But she’s really got me by the ball bag. She’s threatened a few times to call in about my, eh, lenient hiring practices.”

Draco nodded. So that’s what it took. She was blackmailing the boss to get rid of him. Jeanine was many things, but it seemed stupid wasn’t one of them.

“When I hired you, I told you that your circumstances would never be an issue, provided you never brought your drama or vices in here. But you have to recognise—”

Draco interrupted him, “I’m not the only one you’re looking out for.”

“Right,” he nodded, “half the people here wouldn’t be able to find anything else.”

Draco was already thinking about how he would manage to make rent in a couple weeks. His other job didn’t pay any better and he was only washing dishes at the pub two nights a week.

“Is that alright?” Lenny asked.

“I’m sorry. I checked out for a minute.”

“I get it. I said, I’m not going to put anything on paper. As far as the business is concerned, you quit. I can put in a word with a couple other places. I don’t know if they can get you on immediately, but I know some good people who understand what it means to need another chance.”

Draco accepted and thanked Lenny. It really wasn’t his fault. If anyone was to blame, it was Jeanine. That’s what pissed him off most. Jeanine didn’t even really have a reason to want him fired. She was just a genuinely horrible person. He didn’t even spare her a glance on the way out of the café.

 

\-----

 

After sunset, the temperature had dropped sharply. With his coat pulled tightly around him, Draco walked quickly toward The Poison Apple. If he was lucky, one of the bartenders would slide him a drink. The employee privileges didn’t apply to alcohol, but once in a while, a bartender would ‘accidentally’ overpour a drink or open one too many bottles.

As he passed his flat, he knew he should just go home. Every instinct told him not to go to the pub, but he couldn’t face that room right now so on he went.

Minutes later, Draco stepped into a pub that was warm but not inviting. That much would do. He didn’t understand when he got the job that it had a theme based on some muggle fairy tale about poisoned apples and what they thought to be a witch. He never got around to looking into it, but he had long since gotten over the fact that the women could wear pointed hats and exaggerated makeup and were still considered to be in uniform.

He walked past the bar and into the break room and scribbled a quick note on the scheduling board about being willing to pick up shifts. He was relieved to see a bright green jumper hanging near the lockers. Piper was working. It wouldn’t take much more than a sincere “hello” to get a drink out of her. She always said she had the best accuracy of any bartender at the Apple, and that entitled her to a few freebies here and there.

He found her at the bar prepping limes. “Hey, Piper.”

She looked up, tilting her head to keep the brim of the hat out of her line of sight. “Hey, Draco! I didn’t know you were working tonight.”

“I’m not. I was on my way to the deli next door and just stopped to by to get my schedule. Just wanted to say hi,” he lied. He was broke; the only thing he could get at the deli was a cup of water.

“That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. If I give you some money, would you grab me something?” she asked.

Well, I guess I didn’t think that through, he thought to himself. “Sure.”

“They have the best pastrami Reubens. I’m having a religious experience just thinking about it,” she said. Piper pulled her purse out from under the bar and grabbed some crumpled notes. “Tell you what, since I’m making you go out of your way, I’ll pay yours.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Draco said, thinking about how lucky he was that she was about to do that.

“Really, it’s fine. Oh! You should get a Reuben, too! They’re so good, oh my god I’m dying. I haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“You’re a bartender,” Draco teased. “You probably only woke up three hours ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re about to bring me breakfast,” she said.

He tucked the money into his pocket and made his way to the deli. He had barely made it back out onto the street when he had a mind to just go home. It was an uneasy feeling that he’d heard a muggle once say was like wondering if you remembered to lock the door. It wasn’t really an option now that he had Piper’s money. Trying to calm his nerves, he reminded himself that at least he would be able to eat today.

The queue at the deli moved quickly, and he made sure to keep a receipt for Piper as a courtesy. He was back at the pub before the place was too busy. Piper invited him to sit at the bar while he ate his sandwich. She even passed him a beer when he gave her change back to her.

Draco picked a few pinches of pastrami out of his sandwich. He tucked the pieces in a napkin and, making sure no one was paying any attention, tucked it in his coat pocket. He didn’t know if the cat would eat pastrami. As often as that stupid cat stole his food, he doubted it would be picky.

“Hey,” Piper said, stepping into Draco’s line of sight. “I said, you okay?”

Draco nodded. “Been one bitch of a day.”

“Feel that.”

“No, I’ve just got a feeling I should be home right now. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be such poor company.”

Piper patted the counter, “You want me to throw out your wrapper for you? If you’ve really got the feeling that you should be home, then there’s probably something to that.”

Draco wadded up the paper, knocking back the last of his beer. “Yeah, thanks again for the sandwich.”

“No problem. You did me the favor, remember?” she smiled. “Really though. I know it sounds corny coming from a bartender in a witch’s hat, but you really should trust your instincts. Sometimes things happen that can’t be explained, and maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”

Damn, muggles were cute sometimes. “I believe you. I’m on my way right now. I’ll see you soon.”

Piper smiled and winked at him as stood, “Yeah, see you.”

 

\-----

 

Draco would have much preferred to apparate, but it was too crowded. The ministry would slap him with another fine if a muggle so much as heard him use magic, so on he walked. The weight of the evening pressed in around him and he felt on the verge of a panic attack.

No, he thought, this isn’t a panic attack. It was something else. There is something immediately wrong.

As soon as his building was in sight, he knew he was right. Flashing lights filled the night sky. People were shouting and an ambulance siren rang. He ran the remaining distance. Fire. Draco froze. Of course, it was fire. For a second, he was seventeen again, surrounded, frightened.

Draco heard phrases like “second floor” and “mostly contained” and “no ID on the—”. Realization hit him in a wave. The cat. He pushed himself into motion and ran to the side of the building, where his window faced a side street and a brick wall. His window was easy to spot, all orange flames and black smoke. The fire escape was rusted and pulling away from the building. Though, even if it was pristine, he knew there was no saving the cat. He ran in the direction of the garbage bins, losing the contents of his stomach.

Tears flowed freely from his eyes. He spat the sour taste from his mouth. A weight pressed against his heart when he remembered the pastrami in his pocket. The glass in his window shattered above his head. Draco staggered back and thought not of his meager possessions but that stupid fucking cat.

There was nothing he could do. He didn’t know where he would go, but he couldn’t remain standing on the empty side street. Deciding there was no option but to return to the front of the building with the muggles’ version of the emergency services, he pushed himself forward.

Staggering past the only car parked on the street, he heard it. A single tiny noise.

Draco’s breath caught in his throat and he fell to his knees in the snow. There under the car was a frightened cat. The most inconvenient, ugly, irritating cat Draco had ever known was staring him in the face. Draco reached out for it, but it cowered just out of reach.

“Come here, cat,” he whispered. “Please, come here.”

The cat stayed, still scared, but Draco needed it. The one thing in the world he could take care of was right here but unwilling to move.

“Fuck it, _Accio cat_ ,” he said. His wand was in his pocket, not his hand, so the spell was sloppy. The cat skidded from its hiding spot and Draco could see the scorch marks on its fur. He pulled off his coat and wrapped up the cat. That’s how they found him, on his knees and rocking a frightened animal like a baby.

“Sir, put your hands above your head,” the muggle-auror, had a light shining in his eyes.

“I can’t really do that,” Draco answered, turning slowly for the officer to see that he was holding a cat.

“Is that your cat?”

“Um, yes.”

“We’ll take care of it for now.”

Draco held tighter to the cat. “What do you mean?”

Another muggle-auror, or maybe they were called officers, he hadn’t been paying attention to ripped the coat and cat from his hands.

“What are you doing? That’s mine.”

“I need to see your identification.”

“I don’t have any,” Draco said. He didn’t have any muggle identification anyway.

“Why not?”

“My flat just went up in flames. I imagine you can work that one out. Give me the cat,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You live here?” the officer with the light asked.

Draco said nothing, but kept his eyes on the officer with the cat.

“Sir, I need your name. Where have you been this evening?”

“Draco Malfoy. Was fired from Lenny’s café, walked to The Poison Apple then the deli next door and back. Came back here and found my flat in flames and my cat under the car. Can I have it back now?”

“So it is your cat?” light officer asked.

“What does that matter?”

“You are under arrest. We will be taking the cat.”

Draco was in a nightmare. That was the only explanation. “No!” He lunged for the cat, “You can’t have it. Please!” The officer took the cat toward a car while Draco was being cuffed.

“Please, don’t. Please let me keep it,” Draco shouted.

“Seem pretty invested in a cat you call ‘it’ don’t you think,” the officer said. “Do you have its license or a vet record?”

“No,” Draco said.

“You can have someone pick it up in the next twenty-four hours, or it will be surrendered.”

So this is rock bottom, again, he thought.

Draco said nothing as they treated him like a criminal. This wasn’t the first time he was in this situation, but once they found out he wasn’t in any muggle databases or registries, things would likely get more complicated. He wondered if it would land him back in a holding cell at Azkaban to get himself out of this situation. He could apparate. But then he would be a fugitive. With only the muggle money in his wallet, he wouldn’t be able to relocate. At this rate, his best idea was to disapparate the second he was alone, then walk back in the front door and pretend to be picking up a cat for his poor criminal brother.

He had eyes on him every moment. They were trying to charge him for arson, but didn’t know how to proceed because they couldn’t prove his identity. Hours in an interrogation room were dragging along. Draco didn’t even look up when someone started arguing outside the room.

“All you need to know is that this criminal is under our jurisdiction and it is better if you release him into our custody.”

“And what jurisdiction is that?” someone asked. Draco recognized it as the voice of the officer that arrested him.

“We’ll be going now, okay?” then the door opened and in walked an auror. A real one, not a muggle one. “Hello, Malfoy. Looks like you’re coming with us.”

 

\-----

 

“You’ve been giving us one beast of a headache,” Auror Robards said. Draco was seated in the head auror’s office still not sure what the bloody hell was going on.

“Okay.”

“So what normally happens in times like this, you’d be under house arrest and we would monitor you until we could take care of the muggle authorities while also assuring our department that you’re not guilty of the crime the muggles got you for,” he paused. Draco nodded. “But since you are unable to access your estate—”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Fine.” Robards dropped the pleasant tone. “You’re practically homeless, but we have to follow procedures. In cases like this, we have sponsors to whom you may be assigned. You will stay with one of them for the duration of the investigation.”

“A sponsor? What is this, AA?”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but a sponsor is typically an off-duty auror or one of our consultants. They are compensated, but assignments are given on a volunteer basis. Whomever you’re assigned will know who you are before you get there, and will have agreed to this, if that’s any consolation,” Robards explained.

“And the cat?”

“Talk to your sponsor,” he said. “Wait here, I’ll send someone in shortly.” Robards left the office with the door open.

Draco rubbed his eyes, feeling the stress of the evening sink bone-deep. He wondered what time it was before realizing that he was able to cast a _Tempus_ if he wanted. There were no muggles here, and they didn’t confiscate his wand. For once, the ministry didn’t seem to believe he was guilty of the crime he was accused of committing.

He pulled his wand from the hidden pocket in his jeans and cast several charms on himself first. Once his mouth felt clean, he give his hair a quick fix before finally checking the time. Right at midnight, he heard a knock on the open office door.

“Hello, Draco.”

“This is it. This is the only thing that could make this any worse,” Draco said.

Harry Potter smiled at him anyway. “So they mentioned something about a cat?”

 

\----

 

Draco was exhausted, hungry, and wanted to go home. He didn’t quite know where he thought home was anymore. This certainly wasn’t it. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he had things to sort out, a duffel bag of clothes to put away, or even a phone charger to hook up. He had none of those things anymore, so there he sat in Harry’s kitchen and waited.

Draco was falling asleep at the kitchen table with his head resting on his arms. The floo roared to life long enough to let Harry through.

“Draco, you okay?”

He sat up to see Harry standing in the entryway to the kitchen.

“You look exhausted. Why didn’t you go to bed?” Harry asked.

“I don’t live here.”

“You do until the ministry takes care of the muggle side of whatever trouble you’re in. Could be days, could be a week. Did you even try to find your bedroom?”

“Didn’t seem appropriate.”

“Speaking of inappropriate, why the hell were you living there anyway?”

Draco said nothing as he watched Harry move around the kitchen. Harry looked through the pantry for a moment.

“Sorry Draco, looks like I can offer you tap water or tequila.”

“You don’t strike me as a tequila drinker,” Draco said.

“How else am I gonna make margaritas on Mexican night?” Harry shrugged.

“Mexican night?”

"I like tamales," Harry said, pouring water into two glasses and sat across from Draco. He slid one glass in his direction. “You’re diverting. Why did you live in a rundown, muggle flat?”

“I had nowhere else to go.”

“That can’t be true. What about your mother? Wouldn’t you stay with her?”

“I was banned from international travel.”

“Then your friends?”

“Pansy was the only one who stuck with me after everything, and when I stayed with her, she was arrested and brought up on charges of fraud. So I left and they let her go,” Draco said, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“Fraud charges?” Harry sat forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“She moved me into her house, loaned me money by opening a separate vault, and since my accounts were frozen, it was considered fraud and she was taken in,” Draco explained.

“That’s such bullshit. Brought in by who?”

“Your bloody office! The fucking aurors who have kept me in this situation. They won’t arrest me, won’t leave me alone, won’t let me live my damned life. And now I’m here with you being interrogated after what has been the worst day I’ve had in months while running on no sleep. And you’re right. This is bullshit. Complete bullshit.”

“No one ordered that,” Harry said, confused. “And this isn’t an interrogation.”

“Sure as hell feels like it, and I’m not a liar. You think Pansy just arrested herself? You think my mother decided to leave without me? And let’s talk about the fact I’ve had to live off muggle money for years because Gringott’s says that the Ministry of Magic has frozen the use of my vault ‘pending further investigation’ and all galleons I obtain are seized. Do you know how hard it is to get a job without muggle identification? I’ve had to work the worst fucking jobs because they’re the only ones who will hear me out and hire me despite knowing I’m hiding something.” Draco realised he started shouting the more he talked about it. He’s been so cut off that this had been building up for months, if not years.

Harry stared at him, looking slightly horrified. “No, I didn’t mean that you lied. I only meant that it wasn’t official. Something has to be wrong. Your case was closed three years ago. When your probation ended.”

Draco’s bones felt like ice. “Why do you think you know that?”

“I took your case.”

“You did what?”

“I didn’t trust anyone else with it. We were friends, I wanted to make sure it was fair.”

“We’re not friends.”

Harry looked genuinely hurt, “I guess that explains why you never tried to reach out to me.”

Draco scoffed. “Please. If we were friends, you could have contacted me, too. You talked to me in eighth year, but I would bet every galleon I don’t have access to that you only did that because no one else would.” Hearing himself say the words aloud didn’t make it any easier. Draco was as close to happy as he’d ever been spending so much time with Harry. When they finished school, they faded from each other’s lives in an instant.

“I did try to find you, right after I closed your case. But my owls always came back. No one knew where to find you. I even tried to find Pansy, but it was like you all fell off the face of the planet,” Harry said. “I missed you.”

Draco wanted that to be enough, but it couldn’t be. “Yeah, well, I’m fucking here now.”

“That’s only to make sure the muggles don’t arrest you again. Even if you did torch your own place, which I seriously doubt, then it will be handled through the DMLE instead of the muggles,” Harry said. “It was my case though. As soon as I’m back, I’ll be able to see everything. Who arrested Pansy, why your vault is frozen, why you can’t leave the country.”

“My hero.” Draco’s exhaustion weighed heavily on his words.

“You know, we can talk about this later. Your room is right next to mine at the end of the hall. Your cat’s already in there.”

“It’s not mine.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in question.

“It was abandoned by the previous tenant. When I rented the room, the cat and a few things were left behind,” Draco said.

“So you kept him?”

“I didn’t know it was a him.”

Harry smiled at him, “You really didn’t know? When he was taken from you, they checked for a microchip. He’s a five year old male named Coda. He’s a siamese mix and his previous owners are unreachable. If you want him, he’s officially yours.”

“Fantastic, now my possessions include: a wand, the things I’m wearing, and a terrible roommate named Coda.”

“Okay, well, we can start working on some of that tomorrow. For now, I have something you can sleep in,” Harry motioned for Draco to follow him. “This is yours.” He pushed open the door.  

Draco stepped in and saw a cat carrier in the corner, along with a litter pan, cat food, and water. He turned to close the door, but Harry was behind him with clothes in hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you. You can sleep in this and we can figure out something more long term.”

Draco took the clothes.

“Er, if you want to take a shower, the bathroom is the next door on your side of the hall,” Harry said. When it was obvious Draco had nothing else to say, Harry gave him a small wave and went to his own room.

He decided he could sacrifice another few minutes of sleep in favor of being clean. By the time he got back into the room, he thought nothing of pulling on Harry’s clothes. Draco opened the door to the cat carrier and fell onto the bed without pulling back the covers. Draco’s still-wet hair, the clothes he wore, even the pillows smelled like Harry. Harry said he missed him. Damned if he hadn’t missed Harry, too.

 

\-----

 

Draco woke up cold. He knew it hadn’t been too long since he’d fallen asleep. The harsh morning sunlight still filtered through the curtains he hadn’t bothered to close. He reached out to where the cat usually slept and found nothing, then his heart pounded in his chest. Draco realised he lost track of time and the building inspector would be there soon. He sat up, breathing rapidly in full panic-mode, only to remember he wasn’t in his flat.

The panic gave way to nausea from waking up in such a manner. He looked around the room to help ground himself, to remind himself of his surroundings. The room was like something out of a catalog. Only Draco himself looked out of place.

He took his wand from the side table and cast a warming charm. Once it settled, he left the relative privacy of the room. It didn’t take long to see that he wasn’t alone. He heard Harry moving around in the bathroom. The cat was talking to itself in the kitchen or living room.

Draco smiled at the thought of the cat scratching up the walls here. He made his way into the kitchen looking for coffee. Even tea would do at this point, but he found neither. He found almost nothing in the kitchen. Harry was telling the truth last night. Technically this morning, he corrected himself. There was nothing but water and tequila to drink.

With all the edible food he could find piled onto the counter, Draco pushed ingredients around until he found a combination of things he could turn into a meal. Meal probably wasn’t the best word for it, but there was a single egg, three potatoes that hadn’t shriveled yet, and two apples. He would have preferred to have an onion as well, but he was happy to have this.

Rifling through the cabinets gave him most of what he needed. He poured canola oil in a skillet and put on a pot of water to boil. He had to transfigure a spatula into a grater, but that was the extent of what he was lacking in tools. He heard the shower cut on around the time he dropped his apple pieces in the boiling water and grated the potatoes into a bowl.

Adding salt, pepper, and the egg into the bowl, he realized there wasn’t any flour. He pulled the pantry open again, knowing it wouldn’t change a thing.

Pulling down a bag of pancake mix he muttered to himself, “Fuck it.”

The cat heard the crinkle of the plastic bag and invited itself to breakfast.

“No, you’re not going to like it,” he told the cat. Still, the cat darted under his feet as he moved around the kitchen.

Draco added a couple spoons of pancake mix to the potatoes. It wasn’t too far off from what he wanted to make. Hoping for the best, he heated the oil and dropped spoon-fulls of the potato mixture into the pan. They fried up well enough that the pancake mix was no longer at risk of being thrown in the bin and blamed for sabotage.

The apples were mashed into a decent applesauce, if a bit bland. Draco cast a cooling charm on it around the time he heard Harry join him in the kitchen.

“You don’t have any fucking food,” Draco said without looking up at him.

When Harry didn’t answer, Draco turned to see him standing in the doorway. Draco had never seen him in his Auror uniform. He immediately imagined pulling off each piece of that uniform. The buttons, the buckles, the wand holster, and damn, the leather gloves Harry had his fist clenched around... Draco forced his eyes back up to Harry’s face.

“Forget I was here?” Draco asked.

“No.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

Harry reached up and brushed a hand over one cheek as though to wipe away the color. “I thought you said I didn’t have any food.”

“This,” Draco said, lifting the plates in his hands, “is only because I’ve become proficient at scavenging.” He sat down, keeping the table between Harry and himself.

“You know, if someone told me I’d walk into my kitchen to see you making breakfast while wearing my clothes, I would have hoped for very different circumstances,” Harry said.

His crooked grin warmed Draco’s chest a bit more than he was willing to admit. “You don’t have to sweet-talk me. You can have one,” he said. He picked one of the potato things off the plate and dipped it in the applesauce before holding it out to Harry.

Harry took it and popped the whole thing in his mouth. Before he even finished it, he asked if he could have a second.

“Sure, you can have it," Draco said, "As long as you stock your damned kitchen. Today."

“I get my groceries through a service. Their information is taped to the inside the pantry door. You can send them a list and they’ll bill me. Help yourself,” Harry said. “What is this anyway? It’s so good.”

“No idea.”

Harry smiled.

“Well,” Draco explained between bites, “I was working at Lenny’s with a woman who said the hash browns there were bland and fake. So she threw this together and made them when we didn’t have a manager in the building. They’re supposed to have onions too. And not be made with pancake batter, but I did my best. To sum up, I’ve always just called them ‘the potato things’ because she only ever named them in German, which I don't speak.”

“Can you actually cook?”

Draco scoffed.

“Wow, that was condescending, huh?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded.

“You’ve really been a chef this whole time?”

“Cook. I have never officially received the title of chef. But yes, I’ve been a muggle-style cook for years. I don't know any cooking-specific spells.”

“Same place the whole time?”

“Do all of your conversations turn into interrogations?” Draco asked, picking up another potato thing. “I don’t know if you were being genuine with your compliment, but these are incredibly sub-par.”

Harry laughed. “You mean, these get better? Merlin, I’d pay you for that.”

“You’d have to. I’m not your damned elf,” Draco said, taking another bite.

Harry’s smile faded.

This was it. The awkward silences, saying the wrong things, and always being angry made Draco feel like things were back to normal. The ticking of the clock filled the silence for them. Draco forced himself to finish his food. No amount of discomfort had been able to keep Draco from eating when food was available.

“Why didn’t you come back to me?” Harry whispered.

Draco wasn’t sure if he’d meant to ask aloud, but he responded anyway. “Why would I do that? What would I say? I’d run back and ask Harry Potter to please save me...again. The mean, old aurors are picking on me?”

Harry seemed to shrink back from Draco, despite the fact Draco was sitting. “I am starting to think you and I have a very different idea of how our eighth year at school went.”

“Everyone hated me, loved you, and I was lonely,” Draco said. “Kind of like now. And both times, you show up when I have nothing because you’re just a good person. What’s there to misremember?”

“Do you think I treat everyone the way I treated you?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged.

“I have to go,” Harry said. “I’m supposed to remind you not to leave this flat. In the case of an emergency, contact me directly. If I’m unreachable, Robards is your next point of contact. So, er, have a good day?”

“You, too,” Draco said automatically.

As soon as Harry was out the front door, the cat leapt onto the table and stared at Draco.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Draco told it.

The cat sniffed at the applesauce before making a disapproving noise.

“Told you, you weren’t going to like it.”

The cat fixed its gaze back on Draco.

“What? You’re going to lecture me? I know you weren't shook just now, but if you were a gay human man, you’d be a mess after seeing him, too.”

The cat meowed.

“Well, he’s fucking gorgeous, has his shit together, and is way too good for my train-wreck life. Can you imagine how he’ll react when he finds out I have most of my conversations with you?”

The cat jumped off the table and wandered from the kitchen.

“You’ll forgive me,” Draco called after it, “I won’t even have to say sorry.”

 

\-----

 

It was late when the floo roared to life, letting Harry step into the living room. Draco glanced up from his dinner.

“Hey, I see you used the grocery service,” Harry said, shrugging out of the outer robes of his uniform.

Draco’s eyes fell to the leather strap of Harry’s wand holster across his chest. It reminded him of a harness, and he would wage wars and burn cities for the chance to wrap his fingers around that leather strap to pull Harry to his knees.

“You okay?”

Draco nodded, “Yeah. Tired. Doing nothing is exhausting.”

“Well, I have several bits of good news and a few bad.”

“You hungry?” Draco asked. “I made enough for you, too.”

“Sure.”

“Get some then, I’m not serving you,” Draco said, smiling up at him.

Harry rolled his eyes and moved to fix a plate. “What the bloody hell is that smell?”

“Fish sauce.”

“Is it supposed to smell like that?”

“Yes, and no one likes the smell. But you can’t leave it out or it doesn’t taste right,” Draco said.

“How do I do this? Is there a specific way to put this together?”

“Rice, broccoli on top of that, chicken on top of that, garlic on top of that.”

While Harry followed Draco’s instructions, he asked, “So do you call this one ‘the chicken thing’?”

“No. It’s garlic pepper chicken,” Draco said. “And it’s also the reason you now own five new sauces.”

“You won’t be offended if I don’t really like it, will you? I hate fish sauce.”

“I will certainly be offended, and no you don’t.”

Harry made a face at him but put the food on the plate the way Draco recommended. “This is the garlic? It’s dried?”

“It’s fried. It’s supposed to be crispy.” Draco took another bite of his chicken.

Harry took the seat across from Draco. “Let’s start with a few good things. You’ve been allotted one-hundred galleons to replace items like shoes and clothing, though you still can’t leave the flat until you’ve been cleared. From what I can tell, that will be tomorrow. Robards was gone for the day by the time I went to get a final signature.”

“Fantastic,” Draco said, dropping his spoon onto his plate.

“Well, I thought I was starting with the good news.”

“How the hell am I going to buy new uniform items with galleons? Non-slip shoes? A phone charger? They don’t have any of that around Diagon,” Draco said, crossing his arms.

“You can exchange to pounds.”

“No, I can’t. Gringott’s won’t allow me to make any transactions or exchanges. I can’t open a new account. Fuck, I’m lucky on the occasions they let me walk in the door.”

“Draco,” Harry said, “You know I can do that for you.”

“If the aurors knew I was running muggle, why wouldn’t they do that in the first—”

Harry reached over and placed his hand on the table in front of Draco. “I didn’t mention the aurors. I’m telling you that I’m right here. I want to help. Why won’t you let me?”

Draco stared at Harry’s hand on the table.

“Why are you so against asking me for help? I didn’t move you in here because you were just another case. I volunteered because we’re friends. At least, I thought we were the last time we spoke,” Harry said.

“Four years ago,” Draco whispered.

“Draco,” he started again.

“Did you like the chicken or not?”

Harry pulled his hand away and looked at his untouched plate. “You still have your job at the pub if you want it. I called them yesterday. Said I was your roommate and that you were really sick.”

“Someone actually went for that? I didn’t think I had a strong standing there.”

“Pippa seemed to like you well enough.”

Draco was surprised at how happy he was to hear about her, “You mean Piper?”

“Could have been. It was just a quick call. Speaking of calls, you can use my charger until you get yours replaced.” Harry continued. “Piper said she was glad I existed. She thought you made me up. What's that about?”

“I’ve been known to refer to the cat as my roommate.”

“Coda?”

“The cat,” Draco nodded.

“You act like you don’t care about him,” Harry said, smiling at Draco. “I’m not convinced though.”

“Why not?”

“He’s asleep under your chair.”

Draco leaned over to find the cat right where Harry said it was. He hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh my god!” Harry said with his mouth full.

Draco nearly fell, “Warn a bloke when you’re planning to shout at him while he’s leaning out of his chair.”

“Sorry. This is so good. It’s like the gai pad gratiem from Pink Basil. You ever been there?” he asked taking another big bite of his chicken.

“I was a cook there for about six months,” Draco said. He pointed to Harry’s plate, “That is the gia pad gratiem from Pink Basil.”

Draco had done well so far in his attempts not to stare into Harry’s bright green eyes, but with Harry staring at him like this, it was impossible not to. “It’s just chicken,” he shrugged.

“It’s my favorite dish from that restaurant,” Harry said. “Please tell me you can make the potstickers.”

“What if I can?”

“I’d offer you insane favors in exchange for that kind of food that didn’t come out of a paper box. You’re lucky it’s not Indian food, or I may have lost all chill and offered sexual favors.”

“So I shouldn’t mention that I cooked at Taste of India for almost a year? I was there until they closed down for a few months after the kitchen fire a couple years back,”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re trying to get those sexual favors.”

Draco hoped he wasn’t blushing. Judging by the smug grin on Harry’s face, he was most certainly blushing.

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t talk to you like this. Not until you can legally walk out of here if you wanted. Pick this up tomorrow if you want,” he said, winking at Draco.

“You seem really sure that I’ll be good to go tomorrow.”

“For two reasons. One is that I’ve already been reassigned. The other is that the muggles have ruled your fire an arson and Piper was able to give you an alibi.”

“I’m guessing this is leading up to the bad news?”

“Do you remember exactly when your place of employment had a fire?” Harry asked, his posture shifting enough to let Draco know this was business.

“Here we are again. I knew this would end in an interrogation,” Draco said, though there was no heat behind his words this time.

“Can we take this conversation into the living room? I’m beat. These chairs aren’t that comfortable,” Harry said, already getting up.

“I guess.”

The living room was bigger than Draco thought it would be. Two full-sized sofas and a couple recliners lined two walls. Another wall was covered in bookcases and a floo was set into the corner.

“So I’ve been looking at some things today, and it looks like your home fire was the third major fire you’ve been involved in over the past few years. Of course, it’s been nearly impossible to track your work history, so I only just heard about the third one.”

Draco watched Harry fall onto a sofa but didn’t move to join him. “I’m not involved in any of them.”

“I didn’t mean you did it, I’m saying you lost a job because of the restaurant fire. There was a fire on a train and you were listed as one of only three passengers, and now your flat.” Harry looked over the back of the sofa to him, “Can you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

Draco shrugged and started circling the room instead.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, sitting up now.

“Looking,” Draco said, slowing down once he got to the bookshelves.

“What? You haven’t bothered to come in here yet?” When Draco shook his head, he asked, “Why not?”

“I don’t live here.” Draco stopped in front of a shelf full of photos. Some were framed, many were not. He recognized a few. He knew the ones of Harry’s parents and Sirius. He remembered seeing the photo of Harry with Hermione and Ron. Luna and Ginny waved from a photo that looked recent.

Draco never had a shelf like this. He never had photos like this anywhere. His friends weren’t the type to document their daily lives. He was about to move on to a shelf of muggle-looking paperbacks when something caught his eye. There was a framed photo near the back of the shelf. The frame was silver with a tiny golden snitch in the top corner. Draco picked it off the shelf to see what deserved such a gaudy border.

He and Harry filled the frame. Draco didn’t remember the photo. It could have been any of their classes. They both sat in their robes, Draco was staring forward, with his chin resting in his hand. He looked bored. Harry, though. He looked anything but bored.

Harry was also resting his elbow on the table they shared, his temple resting on his fist. He was not looking to the front of this class. He was staring at Draco. The longer Draco watched it, he would see Harry glance away a few times but go right back to looking at Draco.

“Who took this?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, whispering next to him.

“Holy fuck, Potter,” Draco shouted, “wear a bell.”

Harry laughed at him. “Not my fault you didn’t hear me get up.” He took the photo from Draco’s hands. “This could have been one of a hundred days. I don’t even know where it came from. It’s the only one I have though.”

“The only one?” Draco said.

“Of us.” Harry placed the photo back on the shelf slightly behind a photo of Hedwig. “I told you I missed you.”

Abandoning the shelves in favor of the recliner that didn’t have a cat sleeping in it, Draco asked, “The muggles aren’t after me anymore?”

Harry sighed at the change of subject and returned to his spot on the sofa. “No.”

“As nice as that sounds, I have this strange feeling that I’ve jumped out of the frying pan into the fire.”

 

\-----

 

Draco slept more easily his second night in Harry’s flat. Though he was much accustomed to ignoring noise from his neighbors, he woke to the sound of the shower running. He sat up feeling none of the panic from the morning before.

He was wearing Harry’s clothes, waking up in one of Harry’s beds, and he could even hear him in the next room. It was overwhelming. He was certainly attracted to Harry. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want him, but that didn’t do him any good. After today, when the Ministry said he could go, Draco would fade right back out of Harry’s life. He couldn’t imagine Harry having any desire to be involved in Draco’s mess of a life.

Of course, there was no use dwelling on it, so Draco threw back the covers and started his very busy day of sitting around a flat. He opened the wardrobe to dig through the things Harry loaned him. He’d offered to buy Draco a few things while he was waiting on his money to be exchanged, but Draco had refused. Seeing nothing but jeans that would be too short in the legs and graphic tees, Draco opted to stay in the pajamas. He closed the doors to the wardrobe harder than he meant to, earning him a disapproving sound from the cat.

He also noticed that he no longer heard the sounds from the bathroom. It wasn’t the same as the water shutting off; there should still be some sounds, but there weren’t any at all. Draco wondered why Harry would wait until mid-shower to cast a silencing charm. Draco imagined a very vocal Harry wanking just on the other side of the wall.

He shook his head to rid himself of the fantasy of walking into the bathroom and having Harry pull him into the spray of the water. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of the sounds Harry would make, the sounds he was hiding now. Oh, he would certainly wank to this later, but he could wait.

With nothing else to do, Draco decided to make breakfast. There was a hefty portion of rice left over from the night before, so he decided to use it up this morning. He heated a pan with some butter and threw in some chopped onion. There was something strangely nostalgic about the smell of sautéing onions. It was almost as though he remembered it from when he was growing up, but he was never allowed in the kitchen. His father said house elves worked best in solitude. It was probably bullshit class-separation garbage or something. He wondered if Dobby was ever the one to cook in his house. That possibility was a small satisfaction, knowing that something Dobby did would give him comfort now. What would father have to say about that?

Draco scoffed at the thought, dumping the leftover rice and most of a can of black beans into the pan. A couple of spices later, he let that cook while he scrambled a couple of eggs and made a very basic tomato salsa.

He took two bowls from the cabinet, leaving one unfilled for Harry if he wanted it. By the time he was halfway through his meal, the cat was under his chair and Harry was walking into the kitchen.

“Do you always cook like this?” Harry asked, walking over to the counter.

“No,” he admitted.

“Why all the special occasions then?” Harry asked.

“Food costs money. The special occasion is that I didn’t have to pay for this.”

Harry turned to look at him. Draco didn’t know if it was pity or surprise.

“Is that why you’ve been cooking enough for me, too? To pay me back?” Harry asked, picking up the empty bowl, as though to make a point.

Draco shrugged. “I like cooking. I like knowing people enjoy what I make. And it seemed like a fair exchange.”

“I know you well enough to realise how stupid it would be to argue. I want you to know that you really don’t have to pay me back for something like food. You’re not here because you want to be,” Harry said.

“Rice stuff, eggs, salsa.”

“Huh?”

Draco repeated, pointing his spoon toward the food on the counter. “The rice stuff goes in the bowl first, then the eggs, and salsa on top. It’s not a spicy salsa so don’t be scared of it overpowering the rest.”

Harry assembled the dish as Draco instructed and sat across from Draco. “I’ve been thinking.”

“New hobby for you?”

Harry smile, “Piss off.” He looked down at his bowl. “Do you have somewhere to go when you leave here?”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Draco didn’t respond.

“Did you work somewhere that served this?” Harry asked, not willing to sit in silence.

“I had a few roommates for a while. Maria’s mom was from Costa Rica and her dad was from somewhere closer to here. I forget where. She and I cooked together sometimes, and she taught me some of her mom's recipes. This is cheap, so I just kept making it.”

“What if you stayed here?”

“You’re going to need to pick a conversation and stick with it. This hopping around isn’t doing us any favors.” Draco finished off his breakfast and took his dishes to the sink.

“I’m serious, Draco.” Harry gestured to Draco’s now vacant chair. “Will you sit with me for a minute?”

“It’s not like I’m busy.”

Harry waited for Draco to sit back down before continuing. “I’m not asking for any long term decisions to be made, but I think that maybe it would be a good idea for you to stay here until you can make other arrangements.”

“I can make other arrangements today.”

“I don’t mean find somewhere to couch surf. I mean, give yourself time to find another flat. I’ve already talked to Robards about your case, and he told me he’d address the Gringott’s thing. So even if it’s just long enough to get them to release your funds, at least you won’t have to worry about a place to stay or about what to do with Coda.”

Draco shook his head and crossed his arms. “I’m not taking handouts. I may not have much, but I’ve worked my arse off for everything I’ve had.”

“I’m not trying to give you a handout. And I’m not trying to be your landlord. I don’t want to be on uneven footing. So, we work out something. We can split the rent. I make more than you, so I’ll take a larger portion of the rent.”

“Still sounds a little uneven.”

“I’m glad you think so because I was trying to figure out how I was going to throw your cooking into the bargain.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile. “That so?”

“I’m thinking you could pay whatever percentage of the rent your income allows. Then throw in the agreement to cook dinner three nights a week,” Harry offered. “And this is only until you either save enough money to find a place or until Robards can reverse whatever shit they did to your accounts. I’m not trying to be your landlord, just a roommate.”

“I can leave whenever I want?”

Harry nodded.

“I guess this wouldn’t be such a terrible plan.”

Harry nodded. “You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“I’m not, but I also know that my cooking and Coda are the only reasons you want me to stay.”

When Harry smiled, Draco wanted to melt. Harry must have realised he was smiling so brightly, because he bit his lip in that nervous way that Draco used to love.

“What?”

Harry said, “You called him Coda.”

The fucking cat. Of course that’s what made Harry smile like that.

 

\-----

 

Draco never thought he would be so happy to see The Poison Apple. The walk from the closest apparation point was only a couple minutes longer than the walk from his old place. The front of the building was nothing special, just a single door with a narrow window on either side. But walking in, it felt comfortable. Not because the too-dark wooden tables and paneling on the walls. It wasn’t the black enamel of the bar or the somewhat insulting depictions of muggle versions of potions and witches. It was comfortable because he didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. He minded his own business, washed dishes, occasionally ran food out to the tables. The job wasn’t hard or rewarding, but it was his.

He dropped off his coat in the break room before going back to the kitchen. There was very little to do this early in the shift but he took care of the last of the glasses left from the day drinking business crowd.

He wiped the glasses dry, stacked them into a clean dish rack and took them to the bar. “Door. Corner,” he shouted as he rounded his way out of the kitchen. A bartender he only knew by face was restocking the reach-in fridge.

“Behind you with glass,” he said, stepping around the woman.

"Heard," she said, turning to look at him. “Oh, you’re back. You wouldn’t believe the rumors I heard about you.”

He gave her a good-hearted smile before sliding the rack into place. “I’m not surprised by much these days.”

“I sure am,” she said, tucking her graying hair back behind her ear. The motion left her pointed hat a bit lopsided. “You’re such a quiet young man. It was hard to believe. I heard you got in a fight. I heard you burned down your flat. I heard you got arrested. I heard you were so sick you couldn’t come to work.”

Draco nodded, “Well, they got half of it true. But here I am.”

“It’s good to have you back, sweetie,” she said. “Good luck tonight. I’m heading out.”

“Thanks. Have a good night.”

Arms wrapped around his waist before he turned to go back to the kitchen.

“I’ve been so worried about you!”

“Hey, Piper,” he answered.

She let him out of the surprise hug. “Draco, I thought something horrible happened. I mean, it did, but I mean I thought something horrible happened to you. Physically. I get questioned by two sets of police and they tell me your flat was burned to hell. Then you don’t show up. And someone else calls in sick for you. I sent you probably a dozen texts.”

He was happy to see her. Looking up at him with her big, brown eyes, he couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him with that much excitement. Except Harry, but that was only because Draco had cooked for him every night until he came back to work. A week of that, and he was completely sure the food was Harry’s favorite part of Draco staying.

“I’m sorry, Piper. I lost my charger in the fire and it took a few days to get around to replacing everything.”

“Were you hurt in the fire? Or were you really sick? They didn’t take you to jail did they?”

He shook his head, “I wasn’t even in the building. I didn’t go to jail. And I really was throwing up.” He didn’t clarify that it wasn’t from illness.

“You’re going to have to stop holding all your friends at arm’s distance. We were so freaked out. I really am glad to see you. And you’re working with me for the night! I’m just getting here.”

“Oui? What, you speak French now?” Draco teased.

“WE, Kaysan and I, your friends.”

Kaysan? How did she know Kaysan?

“Oh, sugar, it breaks my heart when you look so surprised that people care about you,” she said, taking Draco’s face in her hands, “No more excuses. The next night we all have off, the three of us need to get together. We can go out and let someone else cook for us and pour us drinks.”

“Deal,” he said. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that it was nearly impossible to find a common day off with three people in the service industry. Right now, he was actually kind of looking forward to it. Though it was impossible to imagine two people less alike than Kaysan and Piper, but isn’t that the fun of it?

Piper was pink-cheeked and all smiles when they both heard someone from the other side of the bar.

“Draco?”

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked. At least Harry had shown up in muggle clothes. The ragged jeans and leather jacket matched the aesthetic of the pub. He didn’t know if Harry wanted to look like a regular, but he did nonetheless.

“Sorry, I was hoping I’d see you at home. I guess you had just left,” Harry glanced over at Piper before asking Draco, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Piper made a tiny excited noise before stepping out of Draco’s way. “I need to get on this clock,” she said, excusing herself from the situation.

Sliding into a booth near the back corner, Harry asked, “Was that Piper?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought so.”

Draco, crossed his arms over his chest. He hated when Harry went into investigation-mode. “Why is that, may I ask?”

“I don’t mean anything by it. It’s only that I remember calling here and talking to her,” he said. “She seems nice.”

“She is.”

“Are you two—” Harry trailed off. “Do you like her?”

“I think we’re well acquainted; she thinks we’re friends.”

“You should ask her out. She obviously likes you,” Harry said, full of fake cheer.

“Not gonna happen. We have too much in common,” Draco said.

“I didn’t know that kind of thing is a problem.”

Draco scoffed. “It is when that thing you have in common is being gay as fuck.”

Harry visibly relaxed. “Now I feel like a tit.”

“Did you really just come here to talk to me about Piper?” Draco asked. He slid to the end of the booth ready to leave if necessary. “I am at work, you know.”

“I’m here because of my work really. You remember me telling you I was reassigned a week ago? Well, I can’t go into details, but I’ve been assigned a temporary partner. The DMLE is pulling in a few aurors from MACUSA. Since my flat is approved by the DMLE, Robards asked that he stay at the flat with me. I mean, you won’t have to leave or anything, I just wanted to see if you were okay with one more person staying there.”

“It’s your place,” Draco shrugged.

“Well, yours too. Are you okay with it? Right now, the assignment is estimated to last between three weeks and two months.”

“I’m fine.”

Harry nodded. “I guess I’ll tell Robards I’m good with it. But if it gets uncomfortable, let me know. I could work something out. I’ve got history with this bloke, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

History? Draco didn’t want to think about what that meant. He would settle for convincing himself that simply meant they’ve worked together before. Draco and Harry have real history.

“See you tonight?”

“Not likely, I’m here until close. I won’t be home until almost midnight,” Draco said. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Okay, tomorrow then.”

 

He was back to washing dishes for another half hour before Piper found him again. “So who was tall, dark, and sexy?”

“No idea who you’re talking about. I’m taller and sexier than everyone I’ve seen today,” he said, pushing another rack of beer mugs through.

“Oh my god, is that the elusive roommate?”

“Kind of.”

Piper swatted at him, “The fuck kind of answer is that?”

“Well, Coda is my long term roommate. Harry is the one you talked to before.”

“Wait! Coda? Who’s Coda?”

“Coda’s a cat.”

“You have a cat, too? Oh my god, what else haven’t you been telling me?”

Draco laughed, her enthusiasm was infectious. “When I moved into the flat that just burnt, someone had left a cat behind, so I let him stay. I didn’t think of him as mine until I thought he burnt up.”

Piper gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “Did the firefighters get him out?”

“No, he jumped down the fire escape. I had a window open because I had painted a wall Coda scratched to shit,” Draco explained. “Didn’t want the little fucker huffing paint fumes all evening.”

“Oh thank god, I had a mini heart attack just now. So now that I know your furbaby is okay, tell me about Harry.”

“Harry’s got a two-bedroom, and he’s one person. So I’m staying with him until something else is available.”

“Is _he_ available?”

“What the fuck, Piper?”

“He looked a little peanut-butter-and-jealous when I had my little gay hands all over your face.”

“You know what jealousy looks like on a man you’ve literally never met before?”

She laughed, “When it’s that bloody obvious, I do.”

Before Draco needed an escape from the conversation, the server ran into the dish area. “Luke is fucking gone!”

“Did you check out back? Maybe he’s just sneaking a smoke,” Draco asked.

“No, I checked, his damned motorbike is gone, too. I’ve been sending chips and onion rings back to an empty kitchen for who-bloody-knows how long because that wanker jumped ship.”

Piper’s eyes were wide, she looked between the two of them before asking, “So...Draco? Lettie? Either of you know how to work the fryer.”

Lettie, the server, shook her head, sending the tip of her pointed hat bobbing.

Draco shrugged, “Unless it is somehow different than every other fryer I’ve used in my life, then yeah. No problem.”

“I know I’m asking a lot, but would you step in?” Piper asked.

Lettie reached out and grabbed him by the arm, “It would only be for an hour or so, the new guy comes in to close. Two hours from now at the very latest.”

Draco’s eyes were still on Lettie’s fingers, touching his faded Dark Mark like it was nothing. To her, it was nothing.

“Sorry,” she muttered, taking her hand off him.

“You’re fine. Your hands are just cold is all,” he said, not quite lying to her.

“It’s not that different from Lenny’s. You cooked there, right?” Piper asked.

“Don’t worry. I can cook. Remember, this was Luke’s job up until a few minutes ago. If that tit can do it...” Draco didn’t finish the statement.

Both women were smiling at him. “Thank you so much. I really wasn’t looking forward to telling everyone that the kitchen was closed because our cook decided to walk his ugly arse out the back door mid-shift.”

“I’m not too worried about it,” Draco said, pulling off his wet apron. “It’s a Wednesday. We won’t be so busy that I end up in the weeds before the next cook is in.”

 

It wasn’t any more complicated than any other job he worked. The menu was basic and pretty bland. Most of the food was pre-staged and only needed to go into an oven or fryer or was thrown onto a flat top for a few minutes. His biggest challenge was finding things. However, being the person who washed everything and put it back where it went, he knew his way around more than a server or bartender would.

As predicted, it was mostly the chips, onion rings, and occasional burger or sandwich that went out. Draco liked this kind of work and was happy to be cooking again, but often wondered what it would be like to be a real chef in a restaurant that didn’t make most of its money from drink sales. The kind of cooking he liked best so far was in the Indian and Thai restaurants. They used more fresh ingredients, more made-to-order dishes. There wasn’t anything innately wrong with preparing everything earlier or using frozen chips. Food was just more impressive when things were fresh and when the skill level of the chef or cook actually came into play.

He lost himself in the routine of the kitchen, not realizing the two hours Lettie promised were coming to a close.

“Yo what up, cuzzo? I didn’t know you was up in this joint.”

Draco turned to see Kaysan. “Yes, you did.”

“I knew you was on the payroll.”

“Fair enough,” Draco agreed. “So what the hell are you doing here?”

“Took one for the team.”

“Things are so clear now. I’m very glad we had this chat.”

“You play too much,” Kaysan said, pulling on his apron. “For real though, I ain’t one to put hands on a bitch, but I had to tell that ho she trippin’.”

“Who, Jeanine?”

“The fuck you think I’m saying?”

“I think you’re saying you missed me and wanted to follow me here,” Draco said. “Did you want to hug now?”

“I say again, you play too fucking much. Nah, she came in talking all reckless and I had to let her know. Got lucky and she put hands on me. Took a swipe to my face, and I just mushed her. Her screaming ass got Lenny’s attention before that went down though. Both got fired,” he shrugged off that last bit as inconsequential.

“I don’t know if I should thank and congratulate you or remind you that ‘ho’ and ‘bitch’ are incredibly pedestrian and not my favorite derogatory words.”

Kaysan shrugged. Draco knew he wouldn’t apologize, but he would make a point to limit his use of the words in the manner he used them, at least until he forgot.

 

Piper and Lettie agreed to let Draco go early for taking over the cook shift, offering to finish up the night themselves. On his way out a couple hours early, Piper pulled him to the side and offered him the cook position that Luke vacated. She warned him that the manager would have to okay it, but the manager had never refused one of Piper’s staff recommendations.

Feeling a bit better for the first time in a while, Draco headed back to the apparation point. It was cold, but not unbearably so. Once he apparated, it was only a quick walk into the building, and the elevator was right inside. He usually preferred the stairs, but after hours of standing on a hard concrete floor, his feet and legs were protesting every movement. A few days in his new shoes would soon have them broken in enough that they didn’t make him so uncomfortable.

Harry’s door was set to unlock at certain wands’ signatures. Draco was still getting used to the idea of not needing a key after going muggle for so long. He almost knocked, but remembered how obnoxious Harry was after he knocked last time.

He half-expected the flat to be quiet; Harry usually woke pretty early, though Draco didn’t know how that new assignment would affect the hours Harry kept. The front half of the flat was dark and quiet. It wasn’t until he was closer to the bedrooms that he heard Harry talking to someone in his room. The door was closed, so he went about his routine as though nothing was different. He dropped his coat on a chair in his room, then went to shower away the smell of grease and dishwater.

Draco let the hot water run over his body. He tried not to think about Harry’s closed door. He was told there would be someone else staying. He knew there were only two bedrooms. He knew they had history. Draco was just very uneasy assuming that they had _that_ kind of history.

He had no right to be upset. He not only agreed to this, but also had no business interfering in the first place. So, maybe Harry just had a brief interest in Draco. Maybe he never intended for anything to happen between them. That didn’t make it any easier to think about Harry sharing a bed with a man he already—

A knock at the door pulled Draco’s attention away from his thoughts. The door opened a fraction.

“Hey, Draco? Sorry to bother you, but I need to talk to you before you go to bed, okay? Come get me once you’re dressed.”

Come get me, Draco thought. He didn’t want to knock on that door. He wasn’t ready to see the other man in Harry’s room. Harry hadn’t meant it when he flirted with him, but that hadn't kept Draco from getting his hopes up. He knew he should have left when the aurors cleared him after the muggle arrest.

Draco finished washing, toweled off, and dressed in record speed. Instead of going after Harry, he went to the kitchen. Empty pizza boxes covered the table. He was unconcerned with missing out on the pizza, but wasn’t willing to cook this late at night. Staring into the fridge, he heard someone walk into the kitchen.

“So you’re the roommate?”

Draco turned to see what Kaysan would call a “Walmart-brand Draco”. Draco had never seen a Walmart before, but compared to other situations when Kaysan used that insult, this was a perfect example of when to use it. He was almost as tall as Draco. Almost as blond as Draco, if you ignored his obviously-not-blond roots. And his smile was almost as cocky.

“I was starting to think Harry was hiding you away. Now I know I was right.”

“Excuse me?” Draco asked, unimpressed with the man in front of him.

“Careful with that one. I know you’ve only been here a week, but I’m surprised you don’t already know what I’m talking about. Harry must be showing some restraint. You’re just his type. Careful though, you might not know how to handle him,” the man grinned.

“But you do, I take it?” Draco asked. Before the man could answer, Draco grabbed an apple out of the produce basket. “Excuse me, I’ve had a long day.” Avoiding eye contact, Draco retreated to his room. He may have made a point to stand up straight as he walked by to make sure he was taller, but he would never admit it.

 

His bedroom door was closed for a single second before he heard a knock. Right now, he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to either the arsehole from the kitchen or Harry. Still, he pulled the door open. Harry stepped inside and closed the door behind himself before Draco could really tell him to piss off.

Harry’s naked chest distracted Draco from his earlier annoyance. It wasn’t as though Draco hadn’t seen it before. He knew his scars. He knew that no matter what Harry did, he could never get that magazine quality definition to his abs. He knew that the tiny bite mark on Harry’s collarbone equally turned Draco on and pissed him off.

“I really wanted to talk to you before you met Bryan.”

“You mean fake-Draco?”

Harry blushed and directed his attention to the wardrobe. He pulled one out of the shirts that were still left from Draco’s use. He pulled it over his head, knocking his glasses askew. “I think you should know that he and I have—”

“History, yeah. You mentioned.”

Harry wasn’t looking at Draco. “Well, it’s a little complicated. After Hogwarts, I went straight into auror training and I met him a few months in when I went to America for a month to study with MACUSA. We were cool; we talked about a lot of things. Then when I got back, he came over for another auror related thing, but he’d changed.”

Dyed his hair you mean, Draco wanted to say.

“We hit it off and things got—”

Draco raised a hand to stop Harry’s words. “I don’t care.”

“Draco,” Harry pleaded.

“I don’t care.”

“Can I stay in here?”

“What the fuck for?” Draco asked, not meaning to raise his voice.

“Because the living room is obviously not going to work for me," he said, pointing at the bite mark now hidden by the shirt.

Draco realized Harry had planned to stay in the living room, not sharing a bed with... “And you want me to take it instead?”

Harry ran his hand through his hair, leaving his hand on his neck. Draco couldn’t help but look at the skin exposed when Harry’s shirt rose to accommodate this position.

Harry sighed. “I was hoping I could stay in here with you.”

Draco arched an eyebrow at him in response.

“I have my portable mattress from my last field mission, and I would do my best to stay out of your way, but I really think it would help to have a closed door between me and Bryan,” Harry explained.

“You could just make him leave?”

“It’s complicated,” he said, not offering to continue explaining. “Just do me a favor.”

“Another one?” Draco asked, taking a seat on the bed.

“Be careful around him, okay?”

“Why the fuck is everyone telling me to be careful?”

Harry looked up at Draco with obvious concern. “Did he say something to you?”

“He told me to be careful with you. You’re telling me to be careful with him,” Draco rolled his eyes. “I swear, you two sound more like a muggle soap opera than any other two people I know. Whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you, it can’t be as dramatic as you’re making it sound. Be cryptic and vague about it all you want, I don’t care. But if you want to sleep on a mattress in the floor of your guest room, whatever. It’s your house. Then again, if you are trying not to shag your ex just because I’m being a cock-blocking temporary roommate, don’t hold back on my account.”

“I won’t allow myself to get suspended for jeopardizing—”

“I’m fucking tired, I’m going to bed,” Draco interrupted before he had to listen to the fact that the only reason he’s not shagging fake-Draco is because it’s a work-related rule.

“Are you okay? Did something happen today?”

“I’m fine. Fucking tired. Got promoted to cook from dishwasher. My friend from Lenny’s works with me at the Apple now. I’m just fucking peachy,” he snapped. “And my goddamned feet hurt.”

“Oh, yeah. New shoes. I’ve got a pretty decent potion for stuff like that if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Draco said, getting under the covers. He pulled the blankets over his head and closed his eyes tightly. He told himself not to think about Bryan and Harry. This lasted for an entire two seconds before his thoughts found their way to the bite mark on Harry’s collarbone. How far did they go before Harry decided to be the good and professional auror and refuse to continue?

His anger slowly faded to arousal at the thought of Harry being taken apart. Lips against his neck and chest, his cock hardening under the rough touch of—

“Congratulations.”

Draco pulled the cover off his head to see Harry setting up his portable mattress. “What?”

“Congratulations on getting promoted.”

Draco stared as Harry cast the charm to bring the bed to usable size. Harry didn’t look back to Draco.

“Thanks.” Draco couldn’t remember the last time someone treated his jobs as though they were something to be proud of. He was just a cook. He was always just a cook. No matter how good at it he became, how much he learned, he was still just making food in muggle establishments, trying to pay for living arrangements he would have spat on back when he was younger.

 

Draco’s mind stopped racing eventually, though the chaos continued the moment he was asleep in the form of a cluster of dreams that went everywhere from fucking up all the tickets that came into a kitchen he wasn’t familiar with, to the overwhelming sensation of being lost, and everything he touched catching fire. Those weren’t the worst. He’d had those dreams before, but vivid images of Harry in his bed kept him restless all night.

The fantasy of Harry’s mouth around his cock shook him from sleep well before anyone would be awake. He could hear Harry’s deep breathing at the other end of the room. The thing that Draco couldn’t understand was why Harry would imply his interest in Draco, then turn around and parade his ex-whatever-the-hell-he-was in front of him. If it had been someone else, he would assume it was to make him jealous. He could shrug that off and carry on with his day. However, this was Harry. He didn’t have that conniving and manipulative streak that so many of Draco’s former friends had.

So what the fuck was going on?

Harry made a sleepy noise from his side of the room. Draco couldn’t see him. The sun was far from up and the curtains were closed. Listening to Harry settle back into breathing pattern of deep sleep, he imagined how it would be if Harry were closer. If Draco could roll over and wrap around him until that same sleepy breathing was right next to him. Draco loved the idea of making something functional and lasting out of the past week.

Now with fake-Draco in the next room, he settled for imagining Harry under him. Reaching up, touching, asking for more. He wondered if his imagined version of Harry’s desperate open-mouthed moan was close to the real thing. Draco reached under the covers and took his rigid cock in his hand. He tugged slowly, wishing Harry was doing just that while Draco sank his fingers into that messy hair.

Hardly a minute later, Draco was fighting to keep his breathing steady and his motions quiet. He could easily have cast a silencing or privacy charm, but knowing Harry might catch him…

He sighed heavily as he came, almost hoping to be caught. Afterward, he reached for his wand on the bed side table. Using a wordless charm, he cleaned himself and the sheets. Draco stared toward the ceiling. Still unable to keep his thoughts from wandering, he got up and headed toward the kitchen.

It wasn’t until he heard Coda growling that Draco realised he hadn’t seen him since getting home. He found Coda crouched in the middle of the kitchen floor, staring off to the side. Draco had never heard Coda growl before, even when he was dragging him from under a car in the snow after being nearly set on fire.

“Hey, come here,” he said, reaching down to pick up Coda.

“Nice kneazle you got there,” Bryan said.

Draco thanked Merlin, the stars, and magic itself that he didn’t jump when Bryan spoke. With Coda cradled in his arms, Draco turned to see Bryan sitting at the table, an empty glass in front of him, and an unlit cigarette in his mouth. The single light above the stove cast harsh shadows across the room, making Bryan look even more like an asshole.

“He’s a cat,” Draco said. Giving up on the snack he’d come for, Draco left Bryan sitting in the almost-dark. As petty as it was, Draco hoped Bryan had waited for him, posed and dramatic only to be snubbed in favor of one bitchy-ass cat.

“It’s okay, Coda. I don’t like him either,” Draco said. He cast a _Lumos_ before going back into his room. Harry was still asleep, though the mattress looked notably smaller than Draco remembered. Coda wiggled out of Draco’s arms and circled the room.

Draco would have preferred to get something to eat, having only had an apple earlier, but he’d be damned if he went back out into the kitchen. Draco smirked at idea of Bryan sitting in the kitchen while Harry was in here with Draco. He wondered if Bryan knew Harry wasn’t in Draco’s bed. He certainly wasn’t going to tell him.

 

\-----

 

Draco was grateful for his long hours at the Apple. He had managed to keep from crossing paths with Bryan for the past couple days. Working with Kaysan again was nice as well. Draco was starting to pay more attention to his interactions with Kaysan and Piper. Maybe she was right. Maybe they were friends and had never gotten close, because he had never allowed it. At any rate, he enjoyed the nights the three of them worked together.

He didn’t have that escape today. He had the day off, and it was his turn to cook. He didn’t particularly enjoy the idea of cooking enough for Bryan as well, but whatever, it was for Harry more than anything. Though Draco refused to make any kind of Indian food while Bryan was in the house, so Thai would have to do tonight.

Draco was coming back from the market with the things he needed for Pad Thai when he had the same bad feeling he had when his flat was set on fire. He ducked into an empty side street, apparated to the building and ran up the stairs, not willing to wait on the elevator. As he stepped from the stairwell, he saw Bryan opening the door to the flat.

He didn’t bother calling out to him, but he did follow into the flat. Draco heard a low growl from Coda followed by the scratch of clawed feet running down the hallway.

“Don’t suppose you know where Harry is?” Bryan asked, blocking Draco’s route to the kitchen.

“You’re the one who knows him so well.” Draco moved to walk around him.

“You think you’re funny?”

“Yes. When I want to be.”

As Bryan stepped forward, the floo let Harry through into the living room.

“Hey!” Harry shouted.

“In here,” Draco answered.

Harry rounded the corner, out of breath and pale faced. He looked from Draco to Bryan and froze.

“You okay, babe?” Bryan asked.

“Sorry, I...I don't know” Harry said. He tried to laugh it off. “I had a feeling.”

Bryan stepped around Draco, giving him the space he needed to get to the kitchen. He set his bag down, pulling out ingredients. Tuning out their conversation was easier than he expected. He started preparing his ingredients mostly the muggle way. He had never learned most of the spells used in cooking or household chores. Between former roommates and necessity, he’d learned to do a lot of it muggle. There was something soothing about the routine of it. He cubed half the tofu and laid them out on a tea towel. He would have preferred to buy pressed, but they only had extra firm. All told it only took him an additional couple of minutes to cover it with the towel and put some weight on it.

By the time the tofu had been pressed well enough, Draco had chopped the rest of his ingredients. Scallion, garlic, dried shrimp, and the preserved radish in particular had the kitchen smelling nearly foul. He loved the way all these smells lied to you until they came together into something amazing.  

Having everything else ready, Draco turned his attention back to the sauce. He’d only gotten as far as to melt the palm sugar into water when he felt the physical manifestation of annoyance standing at his back.

“Oh, you kind of know how to make Thai food, too?”

“I _kind of_ know how to do a lot of things,” Draco said, turning to see Bryan standing with his arms crossed and expression almost condescending. “I know exactly how to make Pad Thai.”

Harry came into the kitchen, with a smile too bright and gripped both blonds by the shoulder. “I love Pad Thai. This will be nice, right? Not having to do take away?”

“I’ve got an idea. What if we have a little friendly competition? No actual winners or anything, I don’t want to put any pressure on you,” Bryan said, punching Draco’s arm a little harder than necessary. “Maybe you’ll have an opportunity to learn something.”

Draco had a harder time not laughing at the horrified look on Harry’s face than not rising to the antagonism from Bryan.

“You’re on.” Draco agreed. “I’d say ‘pay attention, you might learn something’, but I’ve a feeling you’re going to need every bit of your focus for your own dish.”

Harry coughed. “So, how about I stay out of your way. I’ll get the table ready and keep the beers on hand.”

Draco turned back to his sauce. He poured it from the small sauce pot he’d used to melt the palm sugar into a bowl. In went tamarind, but when he took the fish sauce from the fridge, Bryan put his hand over the bowl. Draco’s fucking bowl.

“You should skip that.”

Draco sneered at him. “Trying to sabotage this early?”

“Harry doesn’t like fish sauce. You don’t need it. You can easily substitute soy sauce for the saltiness,” Bryan said, hand still over the bowl.

Draco would swear he heard the collective gasp of every cook in every Asian restaurant in London at that very moment. “You do you, man," he said, reminding himself of Kaysan. "I’ll stick to the traditional way.”

“Lucky for me, Harry likes them a little more adventurous.”

“Lucky you. Pardon me,” Draco said, pulling the bowl out of his reach. He didn’t even need to look over at Bryan’s prep area to know he was going to fuck it up. Occasionally, Draco would notice when he took ingredients from the things Draco had bought. There was plenty to spare, though Draco hated to think that it was going to be wasted on half-arsed Pad Thai.

He poured in the fish sauce. It did smell like hell and sadness, but it was so worth it. He remembered the first time he put fish sauce in a hot wok. He almost gagged. His eyes burned, his nose ran and he never imagined taking a bite of the food he was making. It was probably a week into his training that the chef asked if he ate anything he made. When he said no, she made him try almost everything that went out of the kitchen that day.

He fell in love with it. He had heard people compare cooking to potions, but the more he did it, the more he believed cooking to be its own special kind of magic. Draco remembered laughing it off when he read about Helga Hufflepuff’s specialization in food magic back when he was at Hogwarts. Now, he wished he had a chance to study it more. Of course, he couldn’t buy books about it until he was able to use his galleons.

That unpleasant thought pulled him back to his task. Draco had been cooking on autopilot for long enough that he had his shrimp and chicken pieces cooked and set aside and the tofu was browning.

“Fuck!”

Draco looked over to the wok Bryan transfigured from a regular skillet. It was full of shrimp, chicken, and crumbled tofu that was obviously not pressed. The oil was popping like mad. Of course it was completely avoidable, but now, Draco settled for the satisfaction of watching Bryan turn his heat down.

Draco mixed in his next batch of ingredients when he felt a hand on his lower back. He jumped, at the unexpected touch.

“Sorry,” Harry said, grinning at him.  

With three grown men at the same stove, magically expanded, or not, Draco started to feel a little territorial. “Still haven’t taken to wearing a bell, huh?”

“I don’t know what kind of freaky—”

Harry interrupted Bryan to explain that he crept up on Draco the other day. Then he added, “I’ll give you some space. I just wanted to see what was going on.”

Bryan elbowed Draco, making him stab the spatula into the wok. “Hey, man. I recommend a pinch or two of pepper or something to heat that up. Don’t wanna be too bland.”

Draco looked from Bryan down to his own wok, which had a heaping spoonful of chili flakes already cooking.

“Or not, I guess you’re not used to heat. I put hot sauce on everything.”

He took a deep breath. He couldn’t wait for this fucking assignment to be over. He didn’t know what Harry was working on or why this punk bitch was invading his safe places, but he was looking forward to knowing for a fact the idiot’s noodles were garbage.

Draco transfigured his spatula into tongs and added his noodles and sauce.

“You didn’t soak those.”

“Je t’emmerde,” Draco mumbled.

“Huh?”

“I bought fresh,” Draco said, raising his voice but not bothering to fake civility.

“Fresh noodles? I guess that’s one way to take shortcuts.”

Draco was no stranger to cooking while angry. He’s worked in enough kitchens to think of it as part of the environment, but he this was ridiculous. This prick was here, constantly waiting for a fight, throwing his past with Harry in his face, letting Draco know time and again that he’s already had a piece of what Draco’s always wanted.

He finished his dish; the noodles looked perfect. Half the fun of the dish was making it look pretty. He put the noodles to one side of the plate and added more bean sprouts, spooned extra chili flakes and chopped peanuts next to that with more garlic chives and a piece of lime forming a half-moon around the plate.

“Merlin, that looks so good,” Harry said, looking at Draco’s plate.

“Yeah, but this is yours,” Bryan said, pushing a bowl of garbage mush into Harry’s hands.

Harry smiled tightly and took the bowl. Draco wanted to claw fake-Draco’s eyes out. It was okay. This wouldn’t last forever. Bryan’s mission with Harry would be over soon, or Draco would have enough money to move in with new roommates. At this point, he was willing to move into a damned rat trap like his last place.

They took their noodles to the table and Draco lost himself in his own plate while Harry became the world’s most impressive actor. No more than three bites in to the food, Harry pushed the bowl away, claiming to have filled up on beer beforehand.

“At least there’s enough left for him to try,” Bryan said to Harry, pushing the bowl in Draco’s direction.

Draco took a bite. Eighteen-year-old Draco may have spat it out. Probably thrown a fit about being poisoned. Twenty-two-year-old Draco who knew just how bad it was to be hungry, truly hungry, still struggled to get them down. He didn’t know what the hell he just ate, but it wasn’t Pad Thai.

“Yeah,” he muttered, before going back to his own food. Fake-Draco reached across the table and stuck his fucking fork into Draco’s food. He watched him as he took a bite of the noodles. A moment of hesitation crossed Bryan’s face and Draco knew he’d won. It didn’t matter what happened for the rest of the night. Draco's was better and Bryan knew it.

“I’m so glad I decided to cook, too. Harry, you would have hated that,” he said.

“That right, Lockhart?” Draco mumbled.

To his left, Harry coughed.

“You okay?” Bryan asked.

“Yeah, guess the beer went down wrong.”

Draco ate quickly and refilled his plate with all the same things. “I forgot, I’ve got to make a call. I’ll finish my dinner in my room. Enjoy.”

 

He closed himself in the bedroom and set the food on the dresser. He cast a couple charms on it to keep it warm and to keep Coda from stealing pieces from it. Coda made a disapproving huff from his spot on the bed.

“Don’t worry, cat. I’ve got you, too,” he said. He opened the crate where he kept Coda’s food and opened a tin of something that reminded him of the noodles Bryan just made. He transfigured the tin into a bowl shape and set it on the floor.

Coda agreed to the compromise and stopped eyeing the plate on the dresser. Draco pulled a book off the shelf and started killing time, leaving his room only once to shower.

Much later, Harry knocked.

“Yeah,” he called.

Harry opened the door a bit, “You off the phone?”

“Yes,” he answered. With the exception of a few texts with Piper, he hadn’t been on the phone at all.

Harry stepped into the room. “You’ve got the patience of a saint.”

Draco laughed.

“Well, I need to get some sleep, I guess,” Harry said.

Draco pointed toward the dresser. Harry turned to see the plate.

If Draco could bottle the feeling he had when Harry smiled at him like it was Christmas, he’d never need to worry about galleons or pounds again.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yes. That's for you.”

Harry glanced back at the door, then took the plate. “I’m starving. Thank you. Really.”

Draco bit his lip to hide a smile. There were few things as satisfying as hungry people eating something you made.

“This is so good.”

“You’re not doing it right. Come here,” Draco said, reaching for the plate. Harry handed it to him without question. “Sit down.”

Harry sat on the bed and watched as Draco squeezed lime juice on the noodles.

“Ok, now you pull the ingredients in from the side. The bean sprouts and peanuts are texture first then flavor. The lime, chili flake, and chives are mostly flavor,” he explained, mixing in some of each in proportions he thought Harry would like.

Harry took it back and finished the entire plate.

“Still hungry?” Draco asked.

“No, Merlin, no. It was just that good.”

“Funny, I didn’t think you’d like it. Fish sauce and all.”

Harry shook his head. “I’m so sorry about all that.”

“Hey, before you know it, we’ll both be out of your hair.”

“I don’t want you to be.” Harry cast a _Scourgify_ on the plate and set it on the side table. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Draco had a witty comment ready, but he could tell Harry was not in the sarcastic mood.

“I really don’t want him here.”

“Coda’s not going anywhere.” So much for not making a joke of everything.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said, smiling anyway. “I didn’t want Bryan here in the first place, but there’s something going on and they told me that I had exactly zero say in the matter. He’s here while they investigate his entire department. He and three of his partners are assigned over here until they can find what they’re looking for.”

Draco made a disbelieving noise.

“I swear that’s all I know. I don’t know if it’s the DMLE or MACUSA investigating. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I just know that they’ve got me with him chasing a potential art smuggling operation that I know for a fact is just a filler assignment.”

“Why is this important?”

“I can’t exactly expect to invite you into my bed if my ex has currently kicked me out of it,” Harry said, avoiding eye contact.

An uneasy silence settled between them. Neither of them moved until Coda joined them.

“Hey, little man.” Harry scooped the cat into his lap for a quick snuggle. “Bedtime then.”

Harry left. Draco heard the shower start a minute later. Coda jumped from the bed and curled up on Harry’s portable mattress.

With nothing better to do, Draco set his book aside and turned off the light. He was at the edge of sleep when he heard Harry come back in. He looked up to see Harry with nothing but his wand and a towel tied around his waist.

“Forgot my clothes,” he whispered.

“I won’t peek,” Draco whispered back.

“Or you could,” he said.

Draco gave a soft laugh.

Harry said nothing else as he got dressed. The next thing Draco heard from him was a soft swear.

“You okay?”

Harry swore again. “Bloody mattress is losing its charm work. It’s old, but not that old.”

Draco sat up and looked to the mattress. It was visibly shrinking in size.

“Just come here.”

Harry looked over at Draco, unsure of how to respond.

“Harry, I want you to sleep with me.”

Draco loved the nervous glance Harry gave the mattress again. He loved the sight of Harry illuminated only by the glow of a _Lumos_. He hated that he was still trying to deny himself something they both wanted.

Harry got into bed, setting his wand and glasses on the table. He pulled the covers over his body keeping to the far side of the bed. Draco rolled over to face him.

“Harry,” Draco said, “I want you closer.” He could see Harry’s breath speed up. He was nervous, aroused, something.

“Harry,” Draco whispered.

Harry whimpered. Fucking whimpered at the sound of his name coming from Draco’s mouth.

“Do you want to be close to me?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to touch me. Do you want that, too?” Draco felt a wave of arousal watching Harry’s grip on the bed sheets tighten.

“Yes.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word almost a growl.

“I want that, too.”

Harry was staring to the ceiling. His fists clenched on the sheets, his breathing heavy. Draco could see the way he clenched his jaw and was hit with a wave of arousal that left him dizzy.

“Kiss me then,” he said, knowing that he wasn’t simply crossing the boundaries he set for himself. He was ignoring the fuck out of all his self-imposed boundaries.

Harry was wound as tightly as a bow string. Draco propped himself up on his elbow, moving toward the middle of the bed. He could feel the heat of Harry’s skin.

“What are you waiting for?” Draco teased. “Kiss me.”

Draco saw it coming but didn’t fight or resist. Harry’s hand wrapped around his throat. He was pushed down onto the bed, more so by the weight of Harry’s forearm on his chest than his hand at his throat.

“Say ‘please’,” Harry said, looking down on him.

“Why?” Draco asked, smiling up at Harry.

“Because I told you to.”

“Please.”

Harry’s lips brushed Draco’s so lightly he could be convinced it never happened. He tried to lift up to Harry, but the light pressure Harry kept on his throat wouldn’t allow it.

“Was that not enough for you?” Harry asked. He was too close for Draco to see, but he heard the wicked smile.

“Please.”

“Sweetheart, that only works once.”

Draco tentatively wrapped his fingers around Harry’s arm, holding his arm to his chest hoping he wouldn’t stop there.

“Tell me what I can give you.”

Draco wanted to answer, but he was dizzy with arousal. His words were too slow.

“Tell me, right now, what I can do to you,” Harry whispered against Draco’s neck.

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

Draco was trembling with want. “My mouth.”

Harry let go of his throat and traced a single finger over Draco’s lips. “This isn’t what you meant.”

“I’ll take it,” Draco said.

“I know,” he said, slipping his finger into Draco’s mouth. “Don’t move.”

He obeyed, letting Harry run his fingertip over his tongue. When his third knuckle reached Draco’s teeth, Harry laughed. “Look at you,” he praised. Pulling back, he ran his finger over the roof of Draco’s mouth. The sensation was usually a ticklish unpleasant one, but Draco had to fight not to move. Harry’s finger pulled a moan from deep within him.

“What can I give you, Draco?”

“Anything,” he said, reaching up to dig his fingers into those messy curls.

“What will you give me?”

Draco was drunk on him. His desire would promise Harry the moon. “Me,” he finally answered.

Harry let himself be pulled into a kiss. His hands pulled at Draco’s clothes, the bed sheets, the obstacles keeping them apart. They parted only long enough to throw clothes to the floor, not caring about where they landed.

Harry’s palm on Draco’s chest pushed him back down on the bed. Harry leaned forward, moving his hand from Draco, replacing the contact with open-mouth kisses. Draco grabbed at him, grabbed for anything he could reach. Harry’s tongue traced a line up his chest and neck. Reaching his ear, he whispered to Draco, “You’re mine?”

Draco nodded, and thrust upward finally feeling Harry’s cock against his skin.

“My Draco,” he whispered again.

“Yes, Harry,” he said, pushing Harry away only enough to get a hand between them. He took Harry into his hand.

“Wait,” Harry whispered.

Draco froze, willing to obey anything Harry told him.

“I don’t have condoms. Are spells okay?”

Draco nodded.

Harry reached for Draco’s wand beside the bed. Draco kissed Harry’s chest and stomach as Harry leaned over him. The unpleasant sensation of the charms brushed over him.

“Do you want me, Draco?”

“Yes.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s jaw and held him still. “Look at me, Draco.”

Draco looked up at Harry. His green eyes right above his own, dark hair almost long enough to brush Draco’s face from this small distance.

“Do you want me?”

“Yes,” Draco repeated.

“Say my name.”

“I want you, Harry.”

Draco’s cock was so hard he ached, and still Harry neglected to touch him. His whole body shook when Harry sat back on his heels, tracing his fingers down the length of Draco’s body as he pulled away.

Harry picked up a bottle of lube from the bed. Draco never noticed him get it. He didn’t care. He wanted him. He needed Harry to take everything he wanted from him.

“Harry, please,” he begged. He took in the sight of Harry’s body. The _Lumos_ still casting a glow on the hungry look in Harry’s eyes. He looked tense, like he was waiting for Draco to say or do the right thing. Draco wanted to lick the precome from Harry’s cock, but he also didn’t want to wait a second longer to get fucked.

“Harry, I need you.”

“Do you really?” Harry asked, smiling down at Draco.

“Fuck, yes, yes, Harry. I need you. I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, please Harry. I need it.”

Harry laughed, a wicked rich laugh that made Draco feel it against his bare skin.

“Look at you,” Harry said, lowering himself until he was propped up by the elbow. His other hand held his lubed cock at Draco’s hole. “Eyes on me, love.”

Draco hadn’t taken his eyes off Harry yet, but he nodded again anyway.

Harry pressed forward, opening Draco with a slow thrust that had both of them on edge. Draco couldn’t imagine what Harry was seeing, but the furrow of Harry’s brow, the clench of his jaw, the want, the control, the need on his face broke Draco.

“Please,” Draco whimpered. He wrapped his legs around Harry, trying desperately to pull him closer. “Please fuck me, Harry, I need you. I can’t— I… please. Harry.”

Harry twisted his fingers into Draco’s hair and held him. Harry was going to watch Draco’s face as he fucked him. He pulled away slowly, watching Draco fall apart at the loss.

“Tell me you want that again,” Harry whispered.

“I wan-AH!” Draco’s words were cut short. Harry buried his cock inside him in a single rough thrust. Again with the slow withdrawal, a rough thrust, and Draco let himself fall into the sensation, overstimulated by every touch and the look on Harry’s face as he fucked him into incoherence.

“Is this all you want, Draco?” Harry said on another slow withdrawal.

“More, please.”

“You want me to fuck you harder? Faster?”

Draco nodded, never looking away from Harry.

“You want me to touch your cock?”

“Please,” Draco begged. He knew he was lost. So very lost. He had never wanted something so desperately.

“Tell me what to do, Draco. Say my name.”

“Fuck me harder, Harry, faster. Please. Touch my cock, Harry.”

Harry wrapped his hands around Draco’s thighs and pulled his body closer, changing the angle. Draco cried out when Harry’s fingers finally wrapped around him. Harry thrust forward, matching his movements to his hand on Draco’s cock. Only seconds passed before Draco was spilling onto Harry’s hand and his own chest.

Harry fucked him through the climax and smiled down at Draco. “I’m not done with you, yet.” He fucked Draco harder and faster, just as Draco begged for it.

Draco’s entire body reacted to every motion, every time Harry slammed into his body, he felt he would go mad. He hadn’t realised he was shouting until Harry pressed a palm firmly against his mouth.

“You’re doing so good, Draco. There you go, you can claw at me if you need to.” Draco was indeed clawing at his arms, his chest, both wanting more and needing to stop. His nerves were so confused. His body sang in pleasure and screamed in agony. Overwhelmed in a state he never wanted to end, he watched Harry’s face give the first hint at his approaching orgasm.

Soon Harry’s body gave way to the same hints, fingers tightening their grip, hips stuttering in their otherwise relentless pace. Draco was mesmerized. He watched Harry’s whole body react in climax. He gave one last deep thrust, holding inside Draco as far as his body would allow and spilled into him, never once losing eye-contact.

Draco’s body shook, every nerve alive, struggling against Harry’s grip as he was raked through by a second orgasm in response to Harry's release. Harry took his hand off his mouth and brushed his hand over Draco’s cheek and hair.

“You’re perfect,” Harry whispered against Draco’s lips.

Draco tried to pull him down for a kiss, but his arms fought the simple movement. Harry didn’t make him ask for anything. Demanded no words or actions. Harry simply kissed him. It was sweet and slow and, damned if Draco ever admitted it, special.

They wrapped around each other, not caring about the mess or what time it was or the noise they surely made. They had finally found their way into each other’s arms.

 

\-----

 

Draco woke to an empty bed. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He vaguely recalled waking up when Harry cast cleaning spells on him.

He pulled on some pajamas, fed Coda, and headed to the kitchen. He was starving. Draco had barely made it into the kitchen when he heard a voice behind him.

“He’s never going to love you.”

“Good morning, Bobby,” Draco said, turning to face him. “Oh, sorry. Ben.”

Bryan turned a brilliant red. Draco had stepped on a nerve, though he couldn’t know the extent of it.

“He’s going to treat you like the rest of us. I'm sure there has been more than just me and you. Harry will never love you. He’ll just fuck you, abuse you, and leave you like you’re nothing. He’s got one love and it ain’t you.”

Draco shrugged.

“You think this is fucking funny? I heard you two last night. Were you trying to make me jealous?” he asked, his voice full of venom but still quiet.

“I wasn’t thinking of you at all.”

“Did he call you by your name?”

“Yes,” Draco said, moving his hand closer to the wand in his pocket.

Bryan’s hands were clenched into fists. “I bet he didn’t every time.”

Draco wasn’t going to apologise for anything that happened last night. He wasn’t going to apologise for this twat getting his feelings hurt. And he certainly wasn’t going to justify anything that happened.

“I know you think you’re special, but you’re not any better than me,” Bryan continued. “Did he call you Draco?”

“Of course he did, you bloody idiot, it’s my fucking name,” Draco spat.

Bryan’s eyes widened and he turned toward the door. Draco hadn’t even noticed Harry standing in the doorway, but from the looks of it, he only just got there.

“You mother fucker,” Bryan hissed. “You sick mother fucker. This whole time, you’ve been rubbing this dickbag in my face? It wasn’t enough to call me by his name? Now I’m looking at this asshole every goddamned day.”

“I didn’t plan this.”

“You called me his name! TWICE!” Bryan’s entire body shook with his last word. “I was so stupid. The first time I thought, no way, it was a mistake. I heard you wrong or imagined it altogether.”

“Maybe we should get out of here and talk about this,” Harry tried.

“Like fuck I will!” he screamed. “I tried to make everything better. I tried to make you forget about the asshole that just disappeared on you. Have you forgotten what he did to you? He abandoned you. He didn’t deserve you. And he didn’t deserve to be happy while you were hurt. I fixed that. I’ve done everything for you.”

Draco wasn’t looking at Bryan when a coffee mug exploded against the cupboard beside his head. Not paying attention when Bryan threw it was not his first mistake since waking up. He and Harry both had their wands out when Bryan disapparated.

“What the fuck did he think my name was?” Draco asked Harry.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I haven’t earned that much?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed heavily. “Theo.”

Draco scoffed. “At least you chose a Slytherin.”

“Draco I have to go. I’m one-hundred percent sure this qualifies as one of the reasons I need to call in my contact,” he said. He hesitated for only a second before pulling Draco in for a kiss. “Get out of here.”

“I’m being evicted?” Draco asked.

“I’m serious. Take Coda and get the hell out. Go to Piper’s, or The Poison Apple, or Pansy’s. Go anywhere. Just get away from this until we find him,” Harry pleaded.

“Okay.”

Harry stepped back and disapparated.

Draco returned to his room, changed clothes, and coaxed Coda into the carrier. He tied on his shoes and only needed to get his wand from the kitchen. He never made it out of the bedroom.

The hex hit him before he registered the crack of the apparation. He didn’t know the hex, though it was similar to  _Petrificus Totalus_ , but he was still standing and able to move as much as if he’d been buried alive.

“I won’t mess it up this time.” Bryan’s voice was right in Draco’s ear. “I’m not going to sit around and hope you’ll do it yourself. I thought taking a rich kid’s money would do it. I thought maybe you getting your friend sent to prison might work. Guess you've really seen some shit though. Then I remembered how much you just love fire.”

Draco sighed, hoping this prick understood that he was not going to give him a drop of fear. Draco was a coward, through and through, but his threshold for fear was much higher than it used to be.

“You killed your friend. Almost killed Harry. And I thought it would be fitting if I took you, too.”

 _Way to get the details wrong,_ Draco thought.

“I won’t fuck it up this time. Can’t. Now that you know it was me,” he continued.

Bryan left for a few seconds that lasted an eternity. He came back and dropped Draco’s wand on the floor at Draco’s feet. “So what we’re going to do this time is this: we’re going to set the bed on fire. You know, the bed where you let Harry fuck you? Yeah, that’s going up. After he called you by my name, you just couldn’t handle it. That was just one hit too many.”

Draco hadn’t been around wizards for three years, his ability to shake off hexes had gotten rusty, but if this idiot would just keep talking he might buy himself some time.

“It’s okay. Harry won’t remember. I’ll make sure he doesn’t remember. You’re just a bad dream. The ex that didn’t know how to go on without him. Shame about his flat, but he won’t be sad long.”

Draco pushed against the hex again. He didn’t have to shake the whole thing off, just enough to get to his wand. All he had to do was drop to the floor then disapparate. But then there was fucking Coda.

“Don’t bother,” Bryan said. “I know what you’re doing.” He picked up the wand and shoved it into the cat carrier. “You won’t have control of your hands for a few minutes. Even if you can get over there, you won’t get the crate open in time. No apparation or Flame Freezing Charms for you.”

Bryan raised his wand and cast the American equivalent to an _Incendio_. Draco watched the bed as it was swallowed by flames. It would be so easy to stop it. He could save himself if he only had his wand.

There was a shift in the magic around the flat. Draco recognized it as an anti-disapparation charm.

“Dammit,” Bryan spat.

The flames grew higher. Draco could only watch as Coda started rocking the carrier in an attempt to escape.

Draco could hear Bryan leave, closing the door behind him. Such a small detail, but the risk of dying from smoke inhalation just skyrocketed. He wasn’t ready to give up yet. He shoved his magic from his core to his skin, pushing against the hex that had a hold on him. He managed to fall to his knees. Unable to form words, he screamed in frustration as he begged his body to obey him. Reaching for Coda’s carrier, he felt the heat licking at his skin and making his eyes water.

A crash at the bedroom door startled him. He couldn’t turn to see who it was. The moment the extinguishing charms were cast, he knew it wasn’t Bryan.

His body was enveloped in a sensation much like jumping into a freezing lake. Draco would have screamed if it hadn’t taken his breath away. After the shock settled, he realised he could move again.

“D, you aight, my man?” Kaysan asked, stepping into view.

“What the fuck?” Draco looked him over. Still in his usual New York style street clothes, Kaysan had a wand in his hand and a badge hanging around his neck. “Auror Kaysan McClelland?”

“Come on, cuzzo. You done been through some shit. We gotta go.”

It wasn’t until after moving into Draco’s line of sight that he noticed the blood on Kaysan’s face. “Are you okay? Where’s Harry?”

“Last I seen, beating the dog shit out Bryan’s unfortunate ass.”

“So,” Draco nodded toward Kaysan’s badge, “how many new jobs did you get within the last month?”

Kaysan laughed. “I’ve been after his skinny white ass for years. Finally figured the best way to catch him was to keep an eye on you until we could make something stick.”

“So glad I was able to help.”

“Nah, D. You gotta feel good to know it wasn’t your people fuckin’ you like that. Wasn’t even your people’s idea to stick him here with Harry.”

Draco accepted Kaysan’s help getting to his feet. “You know? I do love being bait.”

“Not you, my man. You a catalyst,” he said, pulling one of Draco’s arms over his shoulder. “You know how it is. Can’t start shit, won’t be shit.”

Draco huffed a laugh, “I’m certain that’s not how you usually say that line.”

“That’s the remix. Now let’s get you to Harry before he comes looking for you and leaves my guy unattended,” he said.

Kaysan dragged Draco and Coda down the hallway. Harry had caught Bryan as he tried to escape through the floo and now had him cuffed and in a body bind. The moment he saw Draco, he stepped over Bryan and threw his arms around Draco.

“I’m so sorry, Draco. I didn’t know.” Harry stepped back to look Draco in the eyes. “If I knew you were in any danger, I swear—”

“Harry,” Draco interrupted. “I don’t care.”

“I am so sorry, I love you so much. When I realised he was going to try to hurt you, I just couldn’t…” Harry trailed off.

“I love you, too.” Draco said. “Oh, and I’m moving out.”

 

\-----

 

Four Weeks Later

 

It took less than twelve hours for the DMLE to prove that MACUSA Auror Bryan Mason was guilty of falsifying documents ordering the hold on Draco’s vault at Gringott’s, orchestrating Pansy’s arrest and charges of fraud, as well as arson on no less than three counts. With all the evidence presented by Auror McClelland as well as Harry’s unofficial reports, Draco was reinstated with all the freedoms and rights he should have had the moment Harry closed his case three years prior.

Draco didn’t quit his job immediately upon regaining access to his vault. He was surprised to find that given the option, he still liked being in a kitchen. He would always be fond of The Poison Apple, but it wasn’t what he wanted forever.

It was rare for restaurant space to open up in London, but when you had Malfoy-amounts of money, pleasant conveniences were bound to pop up. One such convenience came in the form of a gorgeous two level restaurant that Draco snatched up the moment it became available.

He told Piper about his plans to turn the entire first floor into a bar and lounge: an area that could look modern and classy with the potential to be used for formal events. He knew his ideas were going in a good direction by the way her eyes lit up. Her enthusiasm was why Draco invited Piper to see the space.

“I really hate to say this, especially since coming into an inheritance usually means something horrible happened to someone, but this is the best thing that could have happened for you,” Piper said. She circled around the bar, running her fingers over the glossy finish. Draco watched her look around at where things would be stocked, no doubt imagining it filled with people.

“I’m rather proud of it,” Draco said.

Piper laughed. “That’s a very mild reaction to something I would literally kill for.” Her eyes went wide as she turned to Draco, covering her hands over her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, that was so insensitive.”

Draco shrugged, “If it was anyone but you, I might be a little more concerned.”

“For real though. I’m happy for you, Draco. This space is amazing. You’re going to have to let me come visit once you’re running this place.”

Draco sighed. “I have no intention of running this place. I want to run my kitchen. I know there is a lot to learn about running a restaurant and I’m really not concerned with most of it. I don’t want to run the staffing, ordering, payroll, front of house, or any of the other rubbish the previous owner and my lawyers were talking about. I want to cook. And I really hope you meant it when you said you wanted this space.”

“What?” Piper whispered.

Draco made a grand display of getting on one knee and holding up a key. “Piper Cordova, will you help me run my restaurant?”

Piper nearly fell to her knees from laughter. Steadying herself, holding on to Draco’s shoulder, she pulled the key from his hand. “Are you serious? You’re offering me a job?”

“If you’re laughing with me, yes. At me, and no of course not, this was a joke." Draco stood, finally feeling nervous about his decision to ask Piper to be a part of his restaurant.

“Are you going to pay better than the Apple?”

“Probably. I don’t know what you make.”

“I’m in.” Piper threw her arms around him and snuggled into Draco’s chest. “You are the best thing to happen to me all day.”

“Only ‘all day’? You’re going to have to step up your game, Draco.” Harry walked down the stairs from the upper level. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your moment, but I only had a minute to stop by. Thought you might be touching every surface in the new kitchen again.”

Piper could take a hint. “I’ll give you a minute. Is it okay if I look around?”

Draco nodded. “You’ve got a key.”

They watched her wander off until she was out of sight.

Harry pulled Draco into his arms and kissed him thoroughly.

“You missed me.”

Harry pressed a kiss against Draco’s temple, “Mhmm.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Yeah, I wanted you to know that I won’t be working late tonight and was really hoping you were still willing to make that curry you said you’d make.”

Draco pulled away and took a seat at the bar. “You mean the butter chicken? Sure.”

“Your place or mine?”

“Mine,” Draco decided. “Coda misses you.”

“He saw me two days ago,” Harry said.

“Yes, well. You’re good company.”

Harry glanced around, making sure they were alone before casting a _Tempus_. “I need to go. I’ll let you get back to your kitchen. I know you still have a menu to write.”

Draco smiled, reaching for Harry. He pulled him in for another quick kiss. “Yeah, I do. I’ll see you tonight.”

Harry winked at him, “See you tonight, Chef.”

Draco almost corrected him, but Harry was right. He was the chef here. This was his place. He might have had an easier time getting started because of his money, but Draco did the work. He had earned his skills. For the first time since he started in restaurants, he was proud.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/150059.html).
> 
> Draco's phrase "je t’emmerde" is the French equivalent of "fuck you".


End file.
